Of The Heart
by ChristianGateFan
Summary: In matters of the heart, surely almost too late has to be better than too late already: When an incident in the line of duty leaves Carlton with a medical condition that will ultimately take his life, he and Juliet are left with difficult decisions to make about their new-found feelings for each other. Shawn has some growing up to do. Lassiet. Some Shules. Warning: character death.
1. Chapter 1

Yay! Accounts are back up! To celebrate I'll post this first chapter of a new story. It's going to be a shortish one, just a few chapters, nothing like Moments (which has a while to go yet, what with finishing the stuff in 2014 and then all the future stuff which is a whole Part 2, and yeah). And I'm working on Chapter 12 right now, literally, I stopped in the middle to upload this. I wrote this last night after work because I had a weird dream the night before that developed into this story through thinking about it all day and researching some stuff. It's also sad and angsty and there will also be one character death here before the end, sorry ya'll. But those of you who are reading the other one don't seem to mind the way I do it, so hopefully this works.

It's Lassiet, taking place very shortly after season 3. Straight-up Lassiet, not just friendship. Because I couldn't help trying it and then it took a sad turn thanks to that dumb dream two nights ago and anyway...the plot bunny would not leave me alone.

Let me know how it's going! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

Of The Heart

Chapter 1

It starts again because of Shawn. Because he's with Abigail now, and it's been almost two weeks since the drive-in and that woman's been in here with him _half a dozen times_ since then, and Gus tells her they've been on _three_ more dates already.

So Juliet is grumpy. She knows it. Everyone else stays away, but Carlton doesn't. He doesn't ask her if she's all right—he knows better than that—but he's bought the coffee more than his share of times in the last several days and he hovers more than occasionally and just the way he looks at her she can tell he knows. He knows _something_.

So it starts again. Juliet grew up pretending she isn't a sensitive person. Having the father she did taught her to do it. To ignore it all. To pretend she's fine as her first method of self-preservation. But she isn't fine, and she is sensitive, and it matters to her that her partner seems to care so much. Carlton's hiding that well himself, but she knows. She knows what he's doing when he hovers, and when he buys the coffee, and when he walks a little closer to her than usual.

He's smiling more often, too, because he knows it relaxes her when he does that, when he gets as close as he can to normal. Not that she has a problem with him as he is; he's her partner, and that shouldn't matter, and it doesn't, but he just looks so _nice_ when he actually smiles...

So that's what sets it off, Juliet thinks. The noticing things. It's the smiling. She notices the smiles first, and after that the rest: the hyper-awareness of how close Carlton is standing, the way he looks at her, the varying brightness of his eyes, or the way his fingers brush hers sometimes when they're passing off files.

It's happened before, these phases of noticing. It comes and goes, and seems to have a lot to do with how much Shawn has or hasn't been distracting her, with his mixed signals. It certainly doesn't help that she gave them right back, and now he's with Abigail, and that's a pretty clear signal. Finally. From one of them. She should be happy.

But it _hurts_.

The day comes, of course, when Carlton has had enough. Juliet knows it when they're in the middle of what would be a perfectly normal conversation about a case, but she's been tapping her pencil for far too long and her voice is too tight, and too fast, and she's more angry than she should be about a file they can't find.

He sighs, loudly, and pushes up from the littered conference table. He snatches his empty coffee mug and stalks away without a word, and Juliet knows she's pushed it too far. She sinks back in her chair sheepishly, waits for him to come back, and plans to apologize. She can't tell him _why_ she's been behaving so badly—he would laugh her out of the station—but she can tell him she's sorry. She can try to fix it.

Carlton doesn't give her a chance to speak first when he returns.

"We're going for drinks after work, O'Hara," he says. "No argument."

Juliet stares at her partner as he sits back down and sips at his fresh coffee. It takes a moment for her to formulate a response, and when she does she realizes he's staring at her expectantly.

"Fine."

He nods once and goes back to scrounging through the files.

She feels a strange ache when he looks down; his eyes were so bright, and she wouldn't have minded looking at them longer.

 _Now you're being ridiculous._

These phases don't usually last long. She hopes to hell this one ends soon.

* * *

They don't get off until late, and she tells him they can do it another time, but he won't have it.

"I can't work with a distracted partner, O'Hara; you're getting whatever the hell it is out of your system," he says.

Carlton insists on driving. Juliet thinks maybe that means he won't drink, at least not much, but he keeps pace with her.

"Better to leave just one car here for the night rather than two if we have to," he says at some point.

By then she's buzzed enough not to care. They're off duty, and it doesn't matter. If a group of guys from the station can get shit-faced together, why can't they?

Because she plans to be trashed before she goes home. She's here, and Carlton is buying, and it's not like it was her idea anyway. He's just trying to help; who is she to deny him the opportunity to be nice?

Maybe both of them should have thought it through a little more. Sooner than she means to be Juliet is drunk enough to tell him _exactly_ why she's been in a mood. He _does_ laugh, but by then she doesn't mind. She laughs with him.

"They've been on like, five dates! Four. Four dates. Only three if you don't count watching a movie after catching a murderer. I don't. I _so_ don't."

Carlton is drunk enough to come back with the fact that his divorce has been final for weeks. He's told no one until now.

"So, you know, if that helps. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea…" he trails.

"What, just because we just told each other the one thing we probably didn't want to? No! This was a _great_ idea!"

"Was it?" His eyes get distant and he gets that face like he's thinking too hard, and it's a lot easier to look at his eyes when he's not paying attention…

"I'm thinking about cutting my hair," he says finally.

"Okay, _Carly_." Then Juliet is laughing, maybe a little too close to hysterical. "Oh my god! When Shawn called you that! With the cat! Your face!"

Carlton rolls his eyes. "What? I'm serious."

She leans over the tiny round table and squints at him, appraising. The room wobbles when she leans in for the squinting. "Like how?"

"Like cutting it all off. Buzz cut. Fresh start."

"Don't do THAT!"

It comes out far too loud, and now she _knows_ she's drunk.

"What?" he asks again. "Why not?"

"I assume you want the fresh start because you're _single_ now."

"Great work, Detective," he answers, no holds on the sarcasm.

He takes a sip of his drink and she gives him a healthy eyeroll in return for the one he gave her a moment ago.

"Don't do that. You'll run the women off. Trust me: your hair is fine the way it is. It's _great_ the way it is. It used to be all…" Juliet wiggles fingers in between their faces because she can't find the word, and she really just wants to run them through the hair they're talking about. There on his head. It's so thick, and she wonders if it's rough, or soft.

"Meh...flat! Flat. That's it. It used to be way too flat. And boring. _Super_ boring. You've been doing a lot better. Don't go ruin it. It's good."

"It is?" And his voice goes up higher than normal on the 'is' and she knows how drunk _he_ is, and that they should probably go home. Her eyelids are getting heavy anyway.

She lets her forehead drop onto her forearm on the table. "Yep."

"Maybe we should get that cab now…" Carlton trails above her.

"Read my mind."

But they get in and she gives the driver her address, and Carlton forgets to give the guy his and once he's walked Juliet to her door the cab is gone.

"Oh…" Carlton says. He curses and pulls his phone out and Juliet bats it down.

" _Carlton_. It's two in the morning; just come in. I have a couch, you know."

She should have known how bad an idea that was. Any other time it might have fine. But the stupid noticing. His long fingers as he pushes the phone back in his pocket and holds the door knob to let her in first, and the way he pushes a hand through his hair and some of it sticks up. The gray strands that somehow just make her _more_ crazy.

And she _is_ crazy. It's nothing. It's just the alcohol.

"I'll find a blanket," she says quickly.

She drops her things on the counter and hurries to the hall closet so he won't see how red her face is, and if she can just get him settled and shut herself in her bedroom and make it through the night she'll be _sober_ in the morning and they'll be safe.

But Juliet finds a blanket and a pillow and goes back to the living room and Carlton is just standing there between the couch and the coffee table. She doesn't know why she doesn't just hand him the stuff or go around the coffee table the other way. She tries to get around him, to put the blanket and pillow on the end of the couch her slight OCD tells her should be the head of it, and there's not quite enough room and they're both unsteady. She trips them both.

They're on the couch, a tangle of limbs, and grunting and apologizing and trying to get off of each other and they are _way too drunk for this._ They untangle and sit up, but suddenly Juliet is too tired to get back to her feet. Carlton's fingers slip from her bare forearm, the end of the untangling, and Juliet feels the tingling all the way up her arm.

Sometimes she wonders if he's ever felt any of these things, too. If it's just her imagination. He's looking at her now and she doesn't want it to be. He's so close, both of them slouched in the cushions. She can feel his breath, his body heat.

She doesn't know when close-because-they-just-fell-over becomes lips-pressed-together, but then it's happened. They're kissing. It goes on long enough they're properly _making out_ , really, and neither of them has freaked out yet. That's a plus.

Juliet's fingers are in his _hair_ , where she's wanted them all night, and Carlton's fingers slip around her side and under the hem of her shirt, brushing her back. It tickles. Juliet giggles against his lips and he makes a strange sound in his throat, and what the _hell_ are they doing?

Everything hits her bladder in just about that moment. It gives her the will to break away, and she's on her feet so quickly she sways.

"I have to pee!"

She stumbles away and she doesn't look back.

When she comes back Carlton is sound asleep, sprawled awkwardly on the couch. Juliet lets out a breath, because she knows they've dodged a bullet. She straightens him out a bit, enough she can get the blanket over him, and she drops into the armchair by the couch. She doesn't feel like she can drag her feet all the way back to the bedroom anymore.

She really hopes they'll be able to laugh about this soon.

* * *

No one is laughing the next day. Carlton wakes up in a panic, they take turns rushing through showers, they have to call a cab again to get to the station, and they have to stop at his place for him to change. As partners they're nothing if not practical—they agree to share the cab—so Juliet sits awkwardly outside in the car on the curb while he goes in, avoiding the rearview mirror and the stare of the cabbie.

Neither she nor Carlton says a word about what happened on the couch.

"Thanks for...you know, trying to help," she says on the way up the front steps.

He just shrugs.

Everything is awkward. They spend the day avoiding each other's eyes and speaking in aborted sentences, and the strain is just as awful as she'd always feared it might be, if anything like this ever happened.

"I have a solution," she tells him, late into the afternoon. It's already past normal work hours, really, but that's usual for them. She takes the chair by his desk as she says it, and Carlton visibly tenses.

"To what?" he asks. He doesn't look up from the file on his desk.

"You know what." He looks up and narrows his eyes at her, prompting her to go on, and she takes a breath. "We go on a date."

"We go on a _what_?"

"A date."

"O'Hara! Have you lost your _mind_?" He's looking around to be sure no one heard her, but there's hardly anyone here.

She huffs and leans over her knees for emphasis. "I don't mean a _real_ one, Carlton! I mean a _fake_ one. Just to prove to ourselves we don't _want_ to. We _know_ there's nothing to worry about, but if we do this we'll _really_ know. We'll be sober, absolutely _nothing_ will happen, and that'll be the end of it. We won't have to worry about any awkwardness anymore. We can get back to business."

His mouth opens and closes a few times. "That's…"

"I know, it's ridiculous, but it's all I've got. It's that fastest way I can think of to put this behind us."

"I was going to say it's brilliant, actually…"

"Oh." Juliet sits back and smiles, pleased with herself. "Thanks."

Carlton sits back in his own chair and does that thoughtful face. He crosses his legs and props one elbow on his desk so his jacket falls open and she gets a glimpse of his shoulder holster. She has to take a deep breath and clear her throat. The way his fingers are draped over his chin doesn't help.

 _Damnit. Not now. Where's Shawn when I need him?_

She's just upset. Juliet knows this. She's probably more angry at herself than anything, for waiting too long to really say something to Shawn, and that's all it is. Emotions running high. Carlton cares about her as a friend no matter how gruff he acts at times—she knows he does—and she's projecting. Or something.

Carlton goes all Head Detective voice when he straightens and starts talking again, and that doesn't help, either.

"All right, if we're doing this, we're doing it right. Friday night, nice restaurant, I'll make the reservations, I'll pick you up...obviously a venue at which it's less likely we'll be spotted by anyone we know, but if we are and anyone and asks later: we were under cover."

"Sounds good to me."

"And I'm paying."

"You paid for the drinks last n—"

"You can get lunch a couple of times next week."

Juliet smirks. "How romantic."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the comments ya'll! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I can't wait to hear from you! :)

Chapter 2

Friday is a good day—or a bad one, depending on how Juliet looks at it.

The drug bust is good. It's the case they've been working on all week, and they're pretty sure the three guys in a cell downstairs are the ring leaders. If they aren't, they'll find out in interrogation.

The first round doesn't go so well—they get nothing out of anyone—but Carlton still has that post-success energy Juliet is used to by now. Walking around like he owns the station, with a grin plastered on his face that might creep out anyone else.

He's glowing. He always does, she thinks, but it's so much harder not to pay attention today. It doesn't help when everyone assumes he'll spend the night here grilling these guys if he has to, but he surprises them all by leaving almost on time. And only she knows why.

"Let them stew for the weekend; that should loosen them up. _I_ , however, have plans," he announces to no one in particular.

Juliet catches him on the way out, striding with him toward the front doors. "You know you want to stay," she says, keeping her voice down. "We could always do this another time."

"No time like the present, O'Hara. Besides, if we managed this bust with this nonsense hanging over our heads, think what we can do when we're _really_ back on our feet."

"If you say so."

Carlton turns at the door to give her a cocky smile that, annoyingly enough, is not at all unattractive, and his voice drops conspiratorially. "I'll see you at seven."

Her stomach does a flip, and Juliet huffs when he's gone.

 _Does he know when he's doing that?_

* * *

"Carlton, this isn't _nice_. This is _ridiculously_ nice."

He shrugs as he shows her in the door. "What? I had to go a little farther into the good part of town to find somewhere not frequented by anyone from the station."

"The undercover explanation would have worked just fine," she smiles.

"Better safe than sorry."

"There are chandeliers and a dance floor. And live music."

At least she doesn't feel overdressed now. She was afraid she might, as long as she spent getting ready. And why on earth did she do that? This is definitely not a dinner-with-a-friend dress, either.

Not that Carlton is any less well dressed, and he's gone without a tie, and dammit.

"Well we have to be certain the experiment is conclusive," Carlton offers reasonably.

"There are _candles_."

"It's the whole restaurant, not just our table," he answers, defensive.

"Okay, I'll give you that one…"

She waits until they're seated to say anything else. "I do _not_ want to know how much this costs, and I'm only buying lunch twice. You said twice."

Carlton doesn't look up from the menu he's glancing over. "Actually, I was thinking about that. You don't have to do that."

Juliet blinks at him. "What?" She waits for a moment, but he doesn't answer. "Carlton, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

She notices the drink insert in his menu and snatches it away. " _Absolutely_ no alcohol," she reminds him.

Now he looks up, confused. "When did we decide that?"

"I did. Just now."

He shrugs again and looks down. Juliet hasn't touched her own menu. " _Carlton_."

" _What?_ " He sighs when he looks up again, and she hopes she's put on her best what-the-hell face.

He's looking her in the eyes now and he opens his mouth and she's almost afraid he's going to say something that will ruin everything. She almost _wants_ him to. But who is she kidding? He's Carlton Lassiter. They have a plan and it's going to go off just the way they mean for it to. Nothing is going to happen here, and Monday morning everything will go back to normal.

Everything was probably only out of whack in her head, anyway.

"Look, O'Hara," Carlton says finally, "I thought you deserved it, all right? You're a good partner to me, and you've come a long way in three years."

He takes a deep breath and his gaze goes off somewhere over her shoulder, like he's uncomfortable saying even that much. "I...depend on you, and that is saying a lot for someone like me. I think you're aware of that." His eyes come back down to hers. "I can foot the bill for one nice dinner."

Juliet relaxes, but now her throat is sort of clogging and she doesn't know if that's worse. "Oh," she says quietly, because it's all she can get out without possibly crying. It's probably the nicest thing her partner has ever said to her, rivaled only by the moment they cracked the first case he let her take lead on two years ago.

She clears her throat and Carlton looks away, and they get to the business of ordering.

* * *

Juliet thinks, through most of dinner, that it's settled. That they're safe.

Any leftover awkwardness seems to dissolve and it's just them, talking the way they would over any working lunch. She's still watching Carlton's eyes for a second too long at times, or noticing the deft movements of his fingers, or getting a flutter in her stomach when he smiles...but again, this has happened before. It will stop soon enough, and they'll be fine.

They have to be fine. She couldn't imagine not working with him every day.

Then he asks her to dance. Just because the dance floor is there, he says, and someday they might need the practice together for a _real_ undercover operation.

She can't argue with that logic.

But it doesn't help. Carlton takes her hand and Juliet feels it up her arm all the way to the base of her skull, and of _course_ he can dance. He has the perfect body for it, not that she should be noticing that too.

"This is weird," she whispers.

Carlton agrees with her, but they don't stop. He's not wrong about the usefulness of the practice, and adjusting their movements to the difference in their heights is worth mastering. If they do ever need this, they don't need to look like they've never done it before.

He's warm, and steady, and he knows what he's doing when he leads her. Juliet doesn't realize how close they've gravitated until they stop and they're looking at each other—toe to toe, chest to chest, nose to nose if she were taller. Her heart is pounding, she's not going to be able to breathe anymore while his hand is at her waist like that, Carlton's eyes are wide, and for the first time she realizes she's not crazy.

He feels it, too.

* * *

Neither of them says a word on the drive to her apartment. Juliet doesn't break the silence until he's pulled up and parked, and then only because she has to. There's too much at stake.

"Carlton, we _have_ to talk, or this entire endeavor has been for nothing."

"We talked all night!"

"Yeah, and then it got weird again at the end, and you can't tell me you don't know what I mean," Juliet shoots back.

He looks at her, finally, for the first time since they left the restaurant, really, and the only word she can use to describe the expression on his face is _helpless_. It's not something she's used to seeing from him. "What am I supposed to say?" he asks.

"I don't know!"

They both fall silent, and she thinks, and maybe the only way to fix this is to jump in feet first. She takes a deep breath. "Do you remember that stakeout a few months ago when I was trying to set you up with that friend of mine? And-and at first you thought…?"

Carlton blinks once. "Yeah."

"I didn't cut you off because you were wrong. I think I cut you off because you were right, but I mean I didn't _lie_ ; it _isn't_ a big deal. It's just...little things. Just sometimes. And it was embarrassing enough dealing with it on my own, and I didn't need you _telling_ me things like this happen. And...it went away. Everything was fine." She makes a face. "Then it came back."

She hopes that makes some semblance of sense.

Carlton sits back a little, thinking, and both of his eyebrows are up now. "Oh."

"So I'm making sense?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

But he's not saying anything else.

"Look, maybe you should just finish what you were trying to explain then," Juliet suggests. "We can, you know...get it out, and laugh about it, and move on like we're supposed to."

Carlton is already nodding, seizing the chance to get this over with..

"Yes. Of course. See, all I was trying to say," he says, straightening, "is that it's perfectly _normal_ for a junior officer to sometimes develop some sort of-of _feelings_ for an older partner, someone she looks up to, someone she works with, side by side, every day, and-and because of the constant closeness in which they work sometimes those feelings can be _easily_ mistaken for something they're not, and..."

Juliet is nodding, and he goes on.

"And that's all it is, really, nothing that won't...blow over, per se, and…" He winces a little and sort of looks away. "And sometimes, I suppose, those feelings can develop the other way. Also nothing to worry about, of course."

"Of course," Juliet says. She pauses. "Not that the feelings don't exist. They _care_ about each other—"

"Right."

"Just not the way it can seem if one isn't careful."

"Exactly."

So they sit there for a moment, thinking that over, and then they're laughing like they should be.

Carlton opens his door and starts to get out. "Come on, I'll walk you up," he chuckles.

He doesn't come to open her door for her, and it's just as well because that part of the night is over. It should be over. Juliet gets out and they walk side by side to her door, Carlton's hands in his pockets and Juliet clutching her purse in front of her.

"So we're fine," she says.

"Of course we're fine."

"Mission accomplished."

"Absolutely," he nods.

They stop in the porch light at the door and his hands come out of his pockets. Juliet tries to hug him but he's holding out a hand to shake hers. They both stop, and they switch. Carlton tries to follow her lead and attempt a hug, and Juliet sticks out a hand that ends up jabbing him in the side.

They stop again, awkwardly mid movement, and they're close now, Juliet looking up into his face because he'd tried to lean down for the hug, and there's one more thought. One thing they didn't really settle. They're just close enough she can almost feel him thinking it, too.

Juliet swallows. "Maybe we should just...take one for the team and try it again, since we're sober now, you know, and if we don't we'll wonder. I know it'll be super weird—"

"Like kissing a sibling or some such thing," he agrees warily.

"But then we'll know, and we won't have to think about it."

"Right…"

They're already so close, it isn't hard to get there. It makes it easier to just do it. Carlton takes her shoulders gently and then it's happening. He's kissing her again, but this time it's measured and controlled. Soft.

And it isn't strange at all.

By the time Juliet realizes that it isn't weird and neither of them has pulled away yet, it isn't controlled anymore either. Carlton is pulling her closer and her arms are going around him under his unbuttoned jacket, and their lips are pressed together much more firmly than before. He's breathing against her and she can't get enough of him and she doesn't want to let go.

Then he does, and her head clears enough to realize what just happened.

"Oh dear god," he gasps.

"Dammit," Juliet swears.

"We, um...we should not have done that…" Carlton trails. He reaches out blindly for the doorframe for support, pawing around a little until he has it.

"You _think_?"

"It was your idea!" he protests.

"You're the one who took me drinking!"

"You're the one who had to go and get all discombobulated over _Spencer_!"

Stretching, aching silence, except for both of them catching their breath. Carlton leans back into the doorframe and they both look out at what little they can see of the stars from here, contemplating the fact that they are really, royally screwed.

"What now?" she asks.

"I don't know," he admits. "We um...maybe we should just—"

"Take the weekend," she suggests quickly. She's afraid he's going to suggest something neither of them wants, and she isn't ready for that. They can still fix this. Maybe. "We should take the weekend. We should think."

"Yes," he agrees, pushing himself upright hopefully. "Yes, excellent. We'll think, and...we'll talk Monday. There's no need to rush to any decisions."

"Of course not."

So they fall silent one more time, and Juliet can't really see the stars but she knows they're there. She can't see Carlton, either, while she's watching the sky, but she can feel him. Between them he finds her hand absently, and squeezes, like he's trying to tell her it'll be all right. She squeezes back, and smiles a bit.

"Good night, Carlton," she says.

"Good night, O'Hara."

He lets go and pushes his hands back into his pockets, and he smiles at her. She can see the tightness in it and she can feel the same thing in her own.

Juliet opens the door but she can't go in. She looks back, he's looking at her with those bright eyes, and she realizes this is the last moment they'll have like this. Before either everything changes or everything goes back to the way it was.

It will hurt either way now. This moment is all they have, before consequences. Before reality sets in. And no matter which way it goes, someday this moment may matter even more than she already feels that it does.

So she can't let it go. Not yet.

Before she can talk herself out of it Juliet leans out from the doorway and kisses him again. The fingers of one hand slip into his hair and Carlton tugs her back to him by her waist, and it doesn't last as long as the first time but it's so much sweeter.

"O'Hara…"

Juliet kisses his cheek and breaks away. "Good night," she says again, and she spins into her apartment and closes the door before she can make it any worse.

She stands on the other side of the door and she doesn't know if she wants to laugh or cry. She does a little of both, just for a moment she gives herself and then she stops. When she leans back the door doesn't give, like there's already a weight on the other side. _Carlton?_

A soft thump just above her head. Maybe his head. Juliet imagines she can feel his warmth through the wood.

The weight on the other side gives way after another moment, and she hears his faint footsteps down the walk.

It's going to be a long weekend.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I couldn't do this without ya'll. :)

Chapter 3

By Monday Juliet has no answer, and no plan. A weekend of old movies and every bit of ice cream left in her freezer did not help at all.

She spends far too much time on her hair and her makeup that morning and she doesn't know why she does that, either. She tells herself it's simply something to do; she's been up since before five anyway, and she can't get back to sleep.

She puts on the black suit she bought a year ago during that case with the dead fashion designers, and she's in front of the mirror trying to decide if it still fits right and if it's too much when her phone goes off. Texts from the chief ordering her to the station _right now_ if she's not on her way already. Come to the conference room. There's a situation.

It's barely six thirty. A problem this early can't be good. She wants to change into something more conservative, but she doesn't have time. Not when Karen is this serious. She sends off a message back that she's on her way and the chief _still_ calls her halfway there to be sure she's coming as fast as she can. Something in her voice puts Juliet on edge.

At the station Shawn and Gus bounce out of Gus's blue car and charge up the steps behind her.

"Any idea what this is about?" Shawn asks.

"No."

"You look nice."

She doesn't have any focus left over to answer.

Karen is waiting outside the conference room. The doors are closed and all the blinds are drawn and she's pacing. The chief doesn't pace lightly.

"What's going on?" Juliet asks. She looks around. "Where's Carlton?" He's in the conference room already. He has to be. Why is Karen looking at her like that?

The chief takes a deep breath and looks at all three of them, and over Juliet's shoulder Shawn curses.

"What's Lassie gotten himself into?"

"Someone remind me to buy my two year old a present later," Karen says. "She was up at three this morning and I checked my work e-mail. At two thirty I'd gotten an anonymous e-mail informing me my head detective had been taken in retaliation to the raid on Friday, and the three men we have downstairs. I sent a detail to Detective Lassiter's house." She swallows. "Signs of a struggle, and no sign of him."

"What?" Juliet says. "You didn't call me!"

"I didn't want to worry you if it was a hoax. Those aren't uncommon, and all we'd have is an irate Carlton on our hands upset about being woken in the middle of the night. As it is, this is very likely real. We still can't get in touch with him. We've been trying. I already have someone here trying to trace the e-mail."

Juliet takes a deep breath. An overreaction is exactly what the chief was trying to avoid by not calling her in until now. By waiting until she was sure the threat was probably real.

"What else did the e-mail say?" Juliet asks evenly.

"You want me and Gus to check out Lassie's place, right?" Shawn asks. "See if I can sense anything?"

"Yes," the chief answers Shawn. "But forensics is securing the site right now, and there may be something else we need to see first."

Juliet realizes her question hasn't been answered. "Chief?"

Karen sighs and opens the conference room door, ushering them all into the room. A projector screen is pulled down displaying a computer screen, and a man with dark curly hair and glasses sits at the table in front of the computer being shown.

"They're demanding we release their people," Karen says. "In exchange for Detective Lassiter."

"But that's not how it works, is it?" Gus asks. "We don't negotiate with criminals, do we? Like we don't negotiate with terrorists. I mean, besides things like hostage situations...been there done that...but even then it's really just stalling until they can take the guy down or talk him out or something usually, isn't it?"

"Besides, that's not even fair," Shawn points out. "They've only got one guy, _supposedly_ , and we've got three. Totally not fair at all."

"They have him all right," the guy at the computer says grimly. He's been quiet until now. He pulls off a pair of headphones and looks back at them, specifically at the chief. "That link in the e-mail is a live feed. I've made sure it's safe. No viruses, spyware. But it's not good. It's not easily traceable and it confirms they have him. I checked it while you were out there," he says, nodding outside to the bullpen.

Karen takes a quick step toward the screen. "You can see him?"

"Yeah." Something in the guy's tone is a warning. The chief looks at him, a silent question, and he nods. The look on Karen's face when he does and the way she looks down and away and her hands clench into fists does not make Juliet feel any better.

"What is it?" Juliet demands.

"Their way of evening the terms," the chief says quietly. Angrily. "We may have two more people than they do, but we-we don't—" Karen Vick is not often at a loss for words, either. She stops and takes a steadying breath and Juliet can't breathe. "We don't...hurt people," the chief finishes with difficulty. "Not purposefully. Not with malice." Now the anger is back.

" _What?_ " Juliet manages. She feels Shawn shift closer to her.

"Well of course they'd threaten to kill him," he says. "That's just...good kidnapper form."

"It's more than that," the chief says tightly. "Show me, " she says to the computer guy.

He looks back at them all apologetically first. "You may want to brace yourselves. I don't know what's going on right now. The quality's not the greatest, but it's definitely live."

He brings up a web page, and it's otherwise blank. Just a video window in the middle of a white screen buffering over pixelated colors.

Then the feed resolves itself, and the audio filters into the room and it isn't loud, but it's clear no one was prepared. Even the computer guy jumps a little.

Carlton is screaming. As much as one can scream with closed lips and when unable to breathe.

What little air she had left herself goes out of Juliet's lungs. She stumbles back a step and her hands clap over her mouth and Shawn is catching her. He's probably holding her up but she doesn't know. She can't feel her legs anymore.

The color is washed out and greenish and the feed is grainy, but it isn't so bad they don't know it's him. It's more than clear that it's him, tied to a metal chair with arms in a dim, dingy room. Maybe an old office somewhere, an abandoned building or warehouse. The places scum like these people use.

People who make and deal drugs and kidnap good men and tie them to chairs and electrocute them.

The strangled cry from the speakers cuts off and on the screen Carlton's chest is heaving, and she doesn't know if he's breathing or moaning and that's her _partner_ up there. And just when she thinks it's over for now he goes stiff once more and starts making that awful sound again.

"Oh my god!" Gus is saying.

Juliet is holding the speaker cord from the computer. The audio has cut off, but she doesn't remember pulling it out. Shawn's arms are still half out, and she remembers them holding onto her but not how she pulled away. They're all looking at her.

"We have to get him out of there," she chokes.

The window minimizes. The computer guy pulls something else back up, numbers and code she doesn't understand.

"I said the feed was difficult to trace; not that I couldn't do it," he says quickly. "Once I do we'll know where he is. I'm already working on it."

"You're right, Mr. Guster," the chief says, clearing her throat. "We don't negotiate. But we don't leave our people behind, either."

Shawn straightens. He's visibly shaken but he's already moving. "Lassie's place. We're on it. Gus, come on."

"You don't have anything yet, Mr. Spencer?" Karen asks.

"I um...not yet. Sorry, chief, really I am. But it'll be easier at Lassie's. Where the abduction happened. I'll be able able to feel more, and…" He motions vaguely to the screen. "Computers can stifle the spirits, you know?"

"Of course," the chief nods, though doesn't really seem to get it at all. But when do any of them understand Shawn's ways? "Whatever you need to do, Mr. Spencer."

"Yeah. Jules?"

Shawn is looking at her. Maybe he's asking her if she wants to come. If she doesn't want to be here. But there's nothing she can do at Carlton's place that forensics or Shawn cannot, and she needs to be here if anything changes.

Her hands are shaking. She pulls them close to her body and knows the chief would tell her she shouldn't be in the field right now anyway. Not when it's her partner. Not until they know where he is and she can go out there and know they're taking down the bastards who have him.

Or maybe he's only asking if she's all right. She isn't.

Juliet tells him to go on.

"You sure?"

"Yeah...I'll be here."

Then Shawn and Gus are gone and chief excuses herself to her office. "You know where I am if you need me, Juliet," she says before she goes. "We'll get them. He'll be fine." She shrugs once. "And now we have enough evidence to put _all_ of these guys away for a long, _long_ time. That's something."

"Yeah…"

Carlton would think it's worth it. It's probably what he's telling himself right now.

Juliet doesn't think so.

Then she's alone in the conference room with the computer guy, and she realizes she doesn't know his name. Maybe when this is over she'll be able to ask him, be able to thank him, but she doesn't have the social energy to do either right now.

The computer he's set up in here to do his job has two screens. He's using the space on one and half of them, but there's half of one where the background shows through, and the fall leaves on a street seem incongruous to the situation. It's a default; she's seen it before.

Juliet takes a seat beside the guy. He glances at her.

"Could you bring it back up?" she asks quietly.

"You sure?" he asks warily.

She can't answer, so she nods. The window comes back up and nothing is happening. Not anymore. It's difficult to tell because Carlton is all they can see, but nothing seems to be happening. Except he's glaring at something. Someone. They can't see who.

They can't see where the wires wrapped around one of Carlton's arms and one of his legs are coming from either. There's no way to know what they're using to administer the shocks, but it doesn't really matter, does it? It's bad enough knowing they're doing it at all.

The speakers are still unplugged, and the guy beside her offers Juliet his headphones.

She takes them, but she doesn't put them on right away. Not until Carlton's head turns, like he's watching someone leaving. Until the vehement glare on his face starts to relax.

She slips the headphones on and she can hear him breathing heavily. Just that. If she closed her eyes it might be two nights ago, with him pressed against her in her doorway.

She wishes it were still Friday. That this was just a nightmare.

 _Carlton…_

Juliet wants to tell him it'll be all right. They're coming for him. But he can't hear her. He has to know it, anyway. For now it has to be enough to know he's alive.

She hears a creaking door close in the feed, and footsteps echoing, fading away. Carlton relaxes a little more, and she thinks he must not know about the camera, wherever it is. He's not looking that direction and he starts to struggle with the ropes to no avail.

He tries maybe longer than is really necessary, she thinks, to know he's not going to budge them. When he stops his head falls back and he moans, just once.

"Oh god," he gasps.

Just one moment. One private moment of fear, that she shouldn't have seen.

Juliet yanks the headphones off and pushes back from the table.

"You okay?" the guy asks. He doesn't know her. He doesn't know asking will do no good.

"Fine," she lies. "I'll be at my desk."

She will be there, but not now. First she goes back out to her car, because she's going to cry and she doesn't want anyone to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much ya'll! Can't wait to hear from you! :)

Chapter 4

"What, lady, you think it's my fault whatever somebody's doin' out there? I don't know their plan. How you know I even know 'em?"

A guy with a buzz cut and a gold tooth smirks at her over the interrogation room table, and Juliet smacks the surface in front of him and leans into his face, ignoring the awful breath.

"Because they're trying to get _you_ out of here, and we have written proof of that!" Juliet shouts at him. "So yeah, this is all you! At least as far as I'm concerned, and _that_ should be enough to scare you, _capisce_?"

The guy glares at her and pulls away, sitting back in his chair. "Yo, lady, calm down—"

" _Detective_ O'Hara. I am _Detective O'Hara_ to you, or that's going to be more trouble you don't want. Tell me where they are!"

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "I don't think so."

Juliet glares at him silently for a moment or two, silently fuming, hoping she's telegraphing the full force of the anger she's feeling.

Hoping Carlton would be proud right now.

"Fine," she says quietly. Dangerously. "But if anything happens to my partner I'm holding _you_ personally responsible. All three of you. Do you understand?"

Something flickers in his face, and she thinks he finally does.

But he still tells her nothing.

* * *

Shawn is able to glean enough from the crime scene that Lassie's house has become to help the SBPD narrow the search for their head detective at least a little-the color of one of the cars, smudges that might indicate the kind of places the perps have been lately, the shoe size of one of them, things of that nature.

He knows it isn't enough. He doesn't know how long the gang will be patient. He doesn't know how long they'll be content to play their game before they simply kill their hostage.

Because it has to be a game. They must know the police won't negotiate. It doesn't matter what they do to Lassie; there won't be any negotiating. They know that.

And that's when the part of Shawn's brain that doesn't want to be dealing with this catches up to the rest of it, and he knows what's going on: the plan can only be for Lassie to end up dead.

"Dammit," he says aloud.

"What?" Gus asks. They're sitting in the car, still in front of Lassie's place. They haven't moved because they don't know what's next yet.

"The gang! The bad guys, the...whoever they are. They're gonna kill him."

"Not if we get there first."

"Obviously! I mean...that's their plan. That's the whole point. They know they're not getting what they want."

"So?"

Shawn slices at the air with a hand. "That means the video feed has another purpose-not just to taunt us. If the guy back at the station...if he gets through they'll know it, won't they?"

Gus makes a face. "I don't know! I'd hope he's smarter than that. I don't know how good he is. But at the very least he knows to look out for that."

"Because I think if they know they're hacked, that's it."

"I'm sure he's being careful."

"Yeah, but...I don't think we can take that chance."

Gus rolled his eyes. "You don't trust _anybody_ else to do their job, do you?"

"Outside of Juliet and those preparing my food-most of the time-no."

"You need help."

Shawn snorts. "Yeah, well right now Lassie needs it more. We have to figure out where he is first. Before Mr. Internet." He motioned to the road. "Go! Back to the station, man!"

Gus goes, but when they pull up in front the SBPD Shawn can't move. Because he knows what he has to do to beat the clock.

"Shawn?" Gus asks.

He blinks, but he doesn't look over. "What?"

"You're not moving."

"You're right. I'm not."

Gus sighs. "What are you doing? Why are we here?"

Shawn swallows, and his fingers are tapping anxiously on the armrest in the inside of the car door. "Because...because the best way for me to find Lassie right now is to go back to the conference room and cross-reference the details from the crime scene with whatever might be visible or audible from the video feed. I can see more than anyone else in there can. I can put it together faster. I might even be able to give them an address if there's enough information."

"I know," Gus says, in his preaching-to-the-choir voice. "You're you, and that's great right now. Go do it."

He doesn't move.

"Shawn…" Gus trails off. "You don't want to go in there," he says. It isn't a question.

"Of course I don't want to go in there! Who would want to go in there?"

"I get it." Gus fidgets for a moment. "I'll come with you if you want me to."

Shawn lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Thanks, buddy, just...stay out in the bullpen. I have to do this."

They walk in together, and he isn't prepared to be blindsided by Jules. She catches him and holds onto him and he's not complaining, but he doesn't know what to make of that.

"Jules...hey. Look, I'm sorry I couldn't—"

"You did what you could. They're taking what you gave them into account in the search. Thank you." She pulls back and looks at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I think there's more I can do." Shawn glances toward the conference room and his gut twists. "I was hoping maybe the connection they've got in there would help me sense more."

"Oh…"

He knows from the look on her face that she hasn't gone back in. She's afraid to.

He also knows, from that and a combination of other things this morning, that something else is going on.

"What is it, Jules? There's something...did something happen this weekend?"

She shrinks back a little, and her voice goes a notch higher and when it's not for the job she's actually, really, quite awful at lying. "No. What do you mean?"

Shawn gives her a look and holds a finger by his eyebrow for a second to remind her who she's talking to. "Jules, really? What's up?"

She shakes her head and deflates. "Not right now, Shawn. Let's just get him back, ok?"

She walks away, and Shawn is left standing there. "Well, that was ambiguous," he says.

"You know that's right," Gus agrees.

Shawn motions after her. "Would you keep an eye on her? Make sure she's ok…?"

"Yeah."

Gus follows Jules, and Shawn gulps a breath and slips into the conference room.

At least they don't have the feed just...up. On the main screen. It's sitting on the side of one of the computer monitors, mostly covered by something else. It's impossible to really see anything that way, but that's probably the point.

"How's it going?" Shawn asks.

"It's going," the guy answers.

"Well, thanks for all the details."

"You wouldn't know what I'm talking about."

Shawn shrugs once. "You're right. Just as _you_ wouldn't understand if I tried to explain the strange ways of the spirits. I respect that. And speaking of the spirits, they might be able to tell me more through a slightly more direct connection to our missing head detective."

The guy shrugs back and motions to the next chair and the pair of headphones discarded on the conference table. "Knock yourself out," he says tightly.

He clearly doesn't like this either, and Shawn likes him a little better knowing that. Even if he is trying to beat the guy to the punch.

"Thanks, man." Shawn sits down and takes the headphones, and he hopes he's covering the fact that his heart rate has already sped up and he still _really_ does not want to do this. "Don't mind me. Just...doing my _thing_. Please ignore any weirdness that may ensue." The guy just ignores him, and Shawn decides that's for the best.

He puts the headphones on first, maybe because he wants some warning of what he's getting into, and he's sort of maybe praying that no one else will be in there now. That's it's just Lassie and he won't have to deal with the rest of it.

But someone is talking, and it isn't Lassie.

"-friends haven't called yet. Not even an e-mail."

"Of course they haven't; they're too busy tracking you down." Lassie's voice. As condescending and forcible as ever, but a little thinner than usual. Rough. Tired but trying not to sound like it. "You know they won't negotiate; what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Shawn pulls up the video, wincing before he even sees anything, and it's the same shot as before. Just Lassie in the chair, and an edge in the corner that may be the table the computer or whatever it is with the camera is sitting on.

And just as much as Shawn expected, Lassie looks like crap. Not so much _more_ than before, really...he just didn't really want to see it before. The dark circles unders under his eyes and the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, just to start.

A new voice. "He keeps saying that. I don't think he gets it."

"I'm _right here_ , you bastards!" Lassie shouts back.

The first voice sounds like it's shrugging when it answers the second. "Whatever. At least we're not bored."

Shawn goes still in his seat. _Shit, shit, no…_

Lassie goes stiff and his face crumples and he starts making that horrible sound. Like he's trying to _make_ a sound, even if he doesn't want to, but he can't really breathe. There are other sounds, too. Faint humming and crackling. That Shawn doesn't want to think about.

 _God, oh god, no, just focus. Dammit._

What's behind him? A window? A dirty window. The paint everywhere is peeling. The whole place is dirty. What does the light look like? How are the type of light and the quality of the video feed affecting what he's seeing? He's seen that shirt before, the one Lassie's wearing. He knows what color it really is. The plaid is mostly blue, but it looks green now. Correct it. What color would everything else be?

Why does his hand hurt? The table. He's gripping the edge of the table too hard.

Let go of the table. Take an actual breath. Focus on the shapes in the dirty window. The other sounds. Can he hear anything outside?

Oh _god_ why is Lassie still making that sound?

Shawn takes another breath, unsteady, and when he has it he realizes Lassie isn't making any noise anymore. He isn't moving, either.

"Dammit, turn it off, stupid!" the second voice says. "He can't breathe! We don't need him dead yet."

The humming stops too. A shoulder and an arm come into view, slapping at Lassie's face and pulling his head up straight and it's clear these guys have no medical experience whatsoever, but after a moment Lassie gasps in air on his own. He's coughing and moaning and he's alive.

Shawn lets out the breath he took, because he didn't know he was holding it.

But it's not so loud in there anymore. There's a volume control on the headphone cord and Shawn uses that to crank it up so Mr. Internet won't immediately know he's doing it. The shapes out the window are giving him a few ideas and if he can just hear a hint of something, _anything_ that's outside that building…

* * *

Juliet doesn't think she's ever been more relieved in her life than the moment Shawn comes charging out of the conference room, yelling that the spirits have given him an address.

She sheds her jacket and finds a vest and is glad, too, and that she keeps more sensible shoes and an extra shirt or two in her locker for times like this. She doesn't have anything to replace the skirt right now, but it'll have to do. She's done this in a skirt before. It's the job. Her hands are shaking as she changes, but by the time she leaves the locker room it's under control.

"How is he?" she'd asked Shawn.

"He's...Lassie. He'll be okay, Jules."

But the look on his face didn't make her feel any better.

By the time she makes it to the site-an old warehouse near a new construction zone-several units that were closer are already there. They have the place surrounded, but they haven't made themselves known. Shawn warned them not to tip the guys off before they had to. A medical team is standing by.

Dobson and his partner are there to back her up, besides the black and white units that are keeping the exits covered. They go in with her, up a flight of rickety stairs on the outside in the back, closest to where they think Carlton is being held. Shawn and Gus are behind them, even though she tried to make them stay at the vehicles.

They've barely made it in the door when they hear the perps shouting at each other. There's banging and other sounds and she doesn't know what's happening but she's already running, weapon drawn. She's shouting for them to come out from wherever they are and she thinks she hears Carlton too. But it's not really his voice. Just a pained sound she doesn't want to analyze.

Two men sprint from a room at the end of the hall. A hand signal or two between herself and Dobson as they're running and he and his partner know to go on after the perps while Juliet ducks into the room they came from, and why isn't Carlton making any noise anymore?

"Carlton!" She takes running steps toward the chair on its side on the floor.

"Jules, _stop_!" Shawn. Shawn behind her, dashing into the room and around her the other direction. To the thing in the corner with dials and wires.

Now she hears the humming. Her toes are two inches from a puddle of water Carlton and the chair he's tied to are lying in. He's soaked and twitching, and an empty bucket lies rolling slowly back and forth by the wall. The humming stops, and he's still. He's too still.

"Okay!" Shawn calls. Juliet hears a crash, and she stumbles going down by Carlton's side when she glances back.

Shawn knocked the thing to the ground, from the stand it was sitting on. He's pulling out wires and kicking it.

"Carlton, come on…"

She wants to be pulling ropes and wires away. Yanking at them the way Shawn is yanking at wires, but she can't. Not yet. She checks for a pulse first, for breath.

"Carlton!"

She finds neither, and she's screaming into her radio for the medical team before she goes after the ropes anyway. Gus is there with a pocket knife. By the time the medical team comes, just a moment later, they have Carlton on his back and ready for them to do what they need to do.

Shawn pulls her up, out of the way.

"Shawn—" she gasps.

"I know, I know. They've got it. Just...they've got it," he babbles.

And they do. She can't breathe until they do, until Carlton is breathing.

Juliet only breathes, really, when they have him on a stretcher in the ambulance and she can hear his heart beating on their monitor. When she's sitting beside him and his eyes flicker open, just for a moment or two. When she squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! I couldn't do this without ya'll, and I really appreciate it, especially on a difficult story to tell like this one. I can explain more at the end of this chapter.

Chapter 5

"Jules, would you sit down? You're making _me_ nervous," Shawn says. "And I don't really do nervous. It's not my style; ask Gus."

"It's not," Gus offers. "Ridiculously overconfident is more his style."

Juliet is up again, pacing the hospital waiting room they've been regulated to for what feels like hours.

She glances up at the clock. It _has_ been hours.

"What the hell are they doing?" she questions.

Shawn shrugs as he gets up to come to her, an arm out like he wants to guide her back to a seat. "You know...tests and stuff. Whatever the chief said."

Karen is the only one back there right now. Carlton doesn't have any family close by and the chief is his only emergency contact.

"I don't get it," Juliet told him once.

"I'm her head detective. She needs to be aware of my condition in the event of an injury—especially in the line of duty," he said.

"You could add me if you wanted to, you know," she said then. If he even listened to her, he hasn't done it yet.

Here, now, Juliet bats Shawn's hands away and crosses her arms tightly over her chest. "Since when are _you_ any good at waiting?"

He doesn't really answer that. He looks at her and his mouth opens and nothing comes out. His eyes go distant and his mouth closes and presses into a tight line, and Gus is looking up at him from his seat with that concerned face he does so well.

And Juliet can't help but remember how Shawn smashed the generator at the warehouse, how much anger he took out on it, and how long he spent in the conference room back at the station.

She doesn't want to know what he saw.

Her own memories are enough. Those moments when they first saw the feed, and the moment in the ambulance when relief turned to fear. When Carlton lost consciousness again and she realized the heartbeat on the monitor she'd wanted so badly to hear wasn't steady. Wasn't strong. The medic in the back with them was frowning far too much.

"Shawn…" she says.

Juliet isn't able to finish. Something catches Shawn's eye over her shoulder and he nods for her to turn around.

The chief has emerged. She's standing outside the double doors that lead back. "Juliet," she says. She's beckoning. Juliet looks back to Shawn and Gus, wondering _what about them?_ but they motion for her to go on.

Karen guides her through the doors, down a hallway and around a corner, far out of earshot of Shawn and Gus. It's not so much another waiting room as a waiting area tucked in a corner.

She's too quiet. Everyone is too quiet, and the chief's face is an apology, and Juliet's stomach is in a knot and she can't take it anymore.

"Chief, what's going on? Please tell me he's—"

"He's resting," Karen says. The knots eases, but the chief doesn't say anything else until Juliet is in a chair. "I wanted to talk to you first," she says then. She takes the next seat.

"About what…?"

Karen looks off, eyes moving, thinking, like she doesn't know where to start. "When you found them," she says after a moment. "When the kidnappers left the power on and ran...they were _trying_ to kill Detective Lassiter. Surely you're aware of that."

Juliet's hands curl into fists in her lap. "Of course I am." At least they're in a cell at the station now. "If Shawn hadn't warned us not to tip them off any sooner than we had to…"

Carlton could be dead right now. She's well aware of that.

The chief nods, but she winces. "Juliet...it still caused a massive heart attack."

Juliet blinks. "It...what?"

And after what she saw of _course_ it makes sense. Of _course_ it does. But still she can't reconcile the ideas of _Carlton Lassiter_ and _heart attack_ together in her head. Not that quickly. It doesn't compute at first. It's her partner, and he's always had her back, and maybe he turned 40 this year but for god's sakes that's not anywhere near _old_ and—

But it doesn't matter. Not after what they did to him.

Karen tries again. "It caused—"

"I heard you," Juliet cuts in. "Sorry…"

The chief just nods, and they're both quiet for a moment, until Juliet's brain kicks back into gear and she realizes how many questions she has.

"But...what does that mean?" she asks. It's the first thing she can get out.

Karen grimaces, and this time the face she's making is worse even though it's clear she's trying not to do it all, and her eyes aren't dry anymore. She reaches for Juliet's hands but Juliet pulls them away to cross her arms and shove them under.

"His heart is damaged, Juliet," Karen says quietly. "Badly. It's...it's not something that can be fixed."

"What does that _mean_?" Juliet repeats, and her breath hitches.

And this is why, Juliet thinks, maybe she never wants to be chief of anywhere. She doesn't want to have to look at anyone the way the chief is looking at her now.

She starts talking again, and she doesn't know why. "What, he'll need a-a transplant or something? I'll have to work with a different partner for a few months until he gets one, or it might take longer than that because of stupid...lists, or whatever? What?"

Karen is already shaking her head, and she's not looking directly at Juliet anymore. She talks faster this time, maybe just to get it all out. "Not just a few months. Carlton won't be coming back to work, Juliet. At all. He can't. They don't know if he'd survive the surgery for a transplant or anything else; he won't be eligible. Even if he was, there—" She clears her throat. "There probably wouldn't be enough time…"

"Time?" Juliet echoes tightly. She can't get enough air.

"They're saying...three or four months...maybe more with medication...I'm so sorry…"

" _What?_ "

The world tilts, and suddenly Juliet doesn't know if she'll ever feel upright again.

"No," she says.

"Juliet…"

" _No_ , I mean…" She gets up, and she's pacing in front of Karen's chair. "There has to be something. Else. Something they can do. That can't be it!"

It's like a horrible cliche, how the last three years flashes before her eyes. Not her life—it isn't her life in jeopardy—but the last three years. Since she transferred here. Since she met her new partner and he raised that eyebrow at her and shook her hand brusquely. Such was the way it began.

Three years since she first went a little wobbly inside when she looked into Carlton's eyes, the first time she realized how bright they were. Three years since the first time she actually saw him smile. SInce the first phase of noticing ended soon after with Shawn Spencer's spastic but charming entrance into her life. But of course it happened again.

Three years. Three years of cases and lunches and teasing each other and teaching each other, and as far as they've come it seems like so much longer.

It can't be over.

The chief is standing, reaching for her. "Juliet—"

"We got him out of there! We saved him! He can't just—"

Juliet can't finish what she's saying. When she sobs and doubles over there are gentle arms guiding her back into a seat.

"God...oh god…"

What about everything else? Friday still happened.

There aren't any tears yet. Her body hasn't caught up with her mind that far. It's only dry sobs, and it doesn't last long. She forces them back when the other questions take over.

"H-How is he?" she manages.

Karen shakes her head. "I don't know...he was quiet. I was the one asking most of the questions," she admits.

Wrong. That's wrong. That's not Carlton. He's not all right.

Of course he's not.

"And you asked...I mean they're sure there's not—"

The chief just shakes her head again, and that's a clear enough answer.

Juliet forces air into her lungs—deep breaths that clear her head and push the threat of tears away for now. Her fingers are curled around the front edge of the chair she's perched on.

"Is he alone?" she asks weakly. "Can...should I, uhm…?"

Karen nods. "You know how he is. He didn't exactly ask for you, but…"

"Yeah," Juliet sighs. She almost laughs once, because at least that much sounds normal. Like him. She gets up again and the chief gets up with her, but she remembers she wasn't alone in the waiting room. "Shawn and Gus…" she trails.

"I'm going to talk to them right now," Karen says.

"Carlton is okay with that?"

"He knows what role they played in finding him successfully, and...anyway. I'm not sure _why_ he doesn't mind if they know, to be completely honest. Maybe it's just because he knows you're close to them and it would be difficult to keep them out of the loop anyway—not to mention Mr. Spencer's abilities, besides." The chief pauses. "But he doesn't want any of this to get around the station yet. We'll be saying he's taking leave for now."

"Oh…"

Karen gives her the room number, squeezes her arm briefly, and makes her way back out toward the main waiting area.

Juliet stops short of the room because her throat clogs again. Another sob forces its way from her throat and she leans into the wall and stuffs a wrist into her mouth. She has to make it stop. She can't go in there like that. He needs her. She can't just go in there and make it worse.

He needs her. That helps. She swallows back anything more and pushes off from the wall. Just a few more doors and she'll have found the right one.

The door is ajar, as if he's waiting for her. Maybe he is; he had to know Juliet wouldn't leave him alone in here once she knew. If she'd been allowed back here at all before now she would have been here. She would have been at his side whether anything this last week or so had happened or not.

Carlton looks up when she steps into the doorway, and she doesn't know what she looks like right now but he looks awful there, tucked into the hospital bed. He looks small, and that should be impossible. Juliet hates it. She wants to fix it. She wants to put color back into his skin and erase the dark smudges under his eyes. She wants him to smile at her.

But there's something in his eyes when he sees her. They're not so bright now, but when he sees her they open wider. Maybe the other thing is...she doesn't know.

"O'Hara…" he says.

It doesn't take more than that. Juliet is across the room in an instant, hiking a leg on the edge of the bed to sit and leaning in to wrap her arms around him. She's almost surprised by how tightly he returns the embrace.

He's clinging, maybe, but it doesn't matter. So is she. Her face is buried in his shoulder and his chin is by her temple and she can feel his breath on her ear. His breath and a small sound she knows he'll never admit to later.

When she sits up Carlton won't quite look at her.

"This is stupid," she says. She can't help another burst of denial, looking at him. "There has to be something else—"

" _Don't_ , O'Hara," he sighs.

"I'm sorry! I just—" She stops herself, frustrated. "What can I do? I don't know what to do. What can I—?"

"You think _I_ have any idea? I've known for maybe half an hour longer than you have!" And his voice breaks, right at the end.

She can't say anything to that. She'll break. Instead, before she can really think it through, Juliet twists around on the edge of the bed to pull her legs up and nudges him. "Move," she says shortly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Carlton asks, tired.

"Shut up," she says.

But he shifts a little, and pulls his arms up, and Juliet stretches out on her side against him and fits herself under one of them. The upward tilt of the top half of the bed makes it easier to push one of her own arms under his shoulders. He makes a strange sound in protest, but he leans up long enough to let her do it anyway. When she's done her head is on his shoulder and her arms are around him.

His arms are still up. "Are you done?" he asks.

Juliet nods against his chest, and he brings his arms down around her, and he doesn't seem to have a problem with that.

* * *

"But that doesn't make any _sense_ ," Shawn says again.

And it shouldn't be that hard to understand. He saw the generator. He kicked it to pieces himself. He saw what they were doing to Lassie and he should have seen this coming, but he wanted to believe this was the movies. This was one of those times when sure, the good guy gets tortured, but he's okay in the end. Some rest and a few nightmares and maybe it's not the easiest thing but he'll be fine. He's the good guy, after all.

"We found him. He should be fine. This isn't—" He breaks off when Gus jostles his shoulder, just a little.

The chief is looking at him, and Shawn thinks it's pity on her face, that's joined her own distress. He's afraid she realizes how ill-equipped he is for this. That she knows now, suddenly, how ill-equipped he is for _anything_ , really, beyond what he does for the department.

"I don't disagree with you," she says quietly. "It _should_ be that way. But sometimes it isn't." The chief clears her throat. "But thank you...you did everything you could, Mr. Spencer. Both of you."

Gus just nods.

Shawn swallows. "Sure."

"Where's Juliet?" Gus asks.

"She's with him," the chief says. She takes a deep breath. "And I will...be at the station, if anyone needs me. I don't know that there's anything else I can do here right now." She looks like that troubles her.

"It's six o'clock," Gus says in confusion. Not working hours anymore.

She blinks and glances down at her watch. "So it is."

She looks around and shifts on her feet like she's not sure which direction to go, and seeing Chief Vick like this is not something they're used to. This is the woman who was back at work the day after she gave birth. The woman who keeps the SBPD in line.

Gus looks at him, and he and Shawn have a silent conversation. Then they're moving in, hugging her from either side, and for Shawn's it's also a welcome moment he can hide his face from both of them. He pulls in an unsteady breath at the same moment the chief does, to cover his own.

She doesn't say anything when they let her go—just nods and gives a tight smile of thanks that comes out more like a grimace and turns to go. But they know she meant it.

When she's gone there's no reason to hold himself back anymore. It's just Gus and strangers, and Shawn doesn't care. A growl builds in his throat and he kicks at the chair he was sitting in a moment ago. It moves and his foot catches. He loses his balance and falls hard into it, and punches the wall behind him instead because the chair thing didn't work out.

Then he's just sitting there, breathing hard, doubled over. He hears another frustrated sound, loud and pained, and realizes it's him.

* * *

"We were supposed to talk today," Juliet says after a while. Neither of them have said another word yet, since she muscled her way into his bed. She doesn't know how long it's been.

"I don't suppose it matters now," he says quietly.

"I didn't even have an answer," she admits. "I was going to see what you said and go along with it."

He makes a sound. Maybe it's a snort, and maybe it's a laugh.

"What?" Juliet asks. She cranes her neck back to look up at his face, and he's actually sort of smiling. "What were _you_ going to say?"

"I was going to see what you said," he echoes, "and go along with it."

She lets her head drop again. She snorts now, too. "Some pair we are."

"Great minds think alike," he offers.

"Sure."

That's it again, for the longest time. She's still holding onto him, and his arms are around her, and she realizes it doesn't matter what they were going to say. It doesn't matter what these feelings are.

No matter what form of love it is, she loves him. That, at least, she's known for some time now. It makes what she says next come easily.

"Carlton," she says into the silence.

"Hmm?"

"You won't be alone."

* * *

She stays until Carlton falls asleep. She doesn't plan to actually leave, but she goes back out to the waiting room to see if anyone is still there.

Shawn is alone, waiting where he and Gus were when she left them. That must have been more than an hour ago now.

He stands when he sees her, and she doesn't know what it is about the way he's looking at her. Maybe it's just the fact that he's still here. That this is a serious thing, a real thing, an awful thing, and Shawn is still here. Everything in his posture says he wants to bolt, but he's still here.

"Where's Gus?" she asks. It comes out uneven. The dam is already cracking.

"He uh...I told him to go home. He has work in the morning, you know, and I don't, and the chief had to go home too, and I just thought, I guess, if anybody needed anything—say, pancakes…" He's motioning back the way she came, but he trails off because Juliet is crying.

"Jules? God…" Shawn pulls her into him and holds her. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry…"

* * *

NOTE: This is the part where I freely admit this story is basically Lassiet-does-A-Walk-to-Remember-in-reverse-and-also-slightly-inspired-by-that-one-Supernatural-episode-where-Dean-got-electrocuted. *shrug* But it's also because, I guess, while Moments deals with things that happen suddenly, this one deals with things that don't. I've been there too, and it also sucks, but there's always, you know, some kind of hope, and now I'm babbling. Anyway. So thank ya'll again for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey ya'll. Sorry it's been so long; my brain got caught up in the home stretch of Moments, and I know it's not done yet so this one will probably still be slow because stuff's more busy since it's not summer anymore, etc, but it'll be much faster once Moments is done and that one will only be a few more chapters probably. So again, I apologize, and I hope you like the chapter. Lol, please do let me know if ya'll are still around/game for this one! Thanks so much! :)

Chapter 6

Jules convinces Shawn to go home by promising she'll go soon, too. She tells him to get some sleep. It isn't late, but he's exhausted. He think he'll be asleep before he hits his pillow. He calls a cab, but once at home he only manages to spend a few hours tossing and turning before he gives up. It's useless.

He trudges back into the hospital early, and knows immediately he should never have left. Jules is still there, in the same clothes. She hasn't gone home, and of course she hasn't. She may not have lied intentionally—it may have just turned out that way—but it doesn't surprise Shawn at all.

He finds her slumped in a chair by Lassie's bed. Lassiter is asleep and Jules is dozing. Shawn catches her before she tips out of the chair.

"Oookay, you should wake up now," he says.

"Hmm…? What? Shawn?"

"Jules, you didn't go home," he says gently.

She blinks a few times and scrubs at her eyes. Shawn holds onto her shoulders until she wakes up enough to sit back and stay upright on her own. She looks around in confusion. "No...I didn't."

"How much sleep did you get?"

She glances at her watch and makes a face. "Half an hour?"

Shawn lets out a breath and tugs her from the chair. "Go home."

"But…"

"No excuses. Come on; you tricked me last night, so you totally owe me this."

"I didn't trick you on purpose," she sighs. "I was _going_ to go home, I just...didn't."

Shawn is trying to drag her for the door. "It doesn't matter now; just go get some rest."

Jules resists. Her voice drops to a whisper and ticks up in urgency all at once. "But I don't want to leave him alone!"

She pulls away and goes back to Lassiter's side, and Shawn watches her close a hand over his. Lassie doesn't wake up, but his fingers twitch in hers. He knows she's there.

And Jules has a strange look on her face—something like the way she looked when Shawn thought yesterday that something was up. Something happened over the weekend, and she wouldn't tell him.

Now Shawn thinks it had something to do with Lassie. In fact, he's sure of it.

"Jules…?"

She looks back at him, almost startled. Like she went somewhere for a moment.

Shawn clears his throat. "Hey, look, if you're that worried _I_ can stay with him. He may not like it, but at least he'll have someone here."

"Are you sure?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, sure. As long as you get some sleep."

Jules looks at him for a long moment, and down at Lassie, and up again. "Okay," she says finally. "You're right; I should um...should sleep. Yeah." She's not entirely here anymore, and after being up for twenty-four hours it's no wonder.

She comes to him and hugs him, thanks him for being here last night and for staying here now. He tells her not to drive and makes sure she calls a cab. He isn't satisfied until he sees her climb into it.

Lassiter is still out when Shawn wonders back to the room, but he isn't so still anymore and his heart rate has picked up a bit. The monitor isn't raising any alarms, so it must be something normal. Just the process of waking, or maybe a dream. Either way, Shawn is glad he got Jules out of here before there was any change. She'd have tried to stay, he's sure.

He stands uneasily near the bed, not close but not far, unsure of whether he should sit down or...what. He knows he isn't the person Lassie expects to see when he wakes up. Shawn doesn't know what to do with himself. Even if everything was going to be fine he wouldn't know, and nothing is fine.

God. Lassie. God, this sucks. What is he supposed to say?

Shawn shudders as if a sudden breeze had chilled him. He can still hear that awful sound and the hum of the generator. He can hear Lassiter gasping.

No...the gasping is happening now. Shawn blinks, and Lassiter's head is thrashing back and forth against his pillow. His chest is starting to heave and his heart rate spikes again—still not enough to garner any protest from the monitor, but it doesn't sound good, and Shawn knows what's happening now. It must be a dream after all.

A nightmare. God knows, if everything Shawn only saw secondhand kept him awake last night, how much worse must it be for Lassiter?

"Lassie!" Shawn calls. He moves in beside the bed, and his stomach is twisting. "Lassie, wake up!"

Shawn is ready for it to be difficult to wake him, but it isn't. His hand closes on Lassiter's shoulder and the other man jolts awake, eyes darting wildly, and the fear in his eyes is so much clearer in person but Shawn knows it's the same fear he saw through the grainy video feed. It makes him freeze.

"Lassie…?"

He can't do this. Any minute now Lassiter's eyes will clear, and he'll focus on Shawn, and Shawn doesn't know what he's supposed to do after that.

"What...?" It comes out rough, through heavy, uneven breaths. Lassiter blinks and swallows, and it's too late to bolt. Not that Shawn should have been thinking about it. He told Jules he'd be here, so he'll be here. "Spencer?"

Shawn coughs once. "Yeah. Sorry...Jules really needed some sleep. She didn't go home last night. I tried to get her to but I kinda failed...rather epically."

Lassie makes a low sound in his throat—sort of a growl, more like a sound that means he understands. "It's O'Hara. She's stubborn...not your fault." He's scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, and if it's anything more than that Shawn chooses not to notice.

"Yeah…"

"What are you doing here?" Lassie asks. Shawn just looks at him, and when Lassie really looks back he seems to get it. "O'Hara."

"Yeah."

Lassiter nods and looks away again. The silence stretches out awkwardly between them, and Shawn knows there are things he needs to say but he doesn't know where to start.

"Lassie...I'm so sorry." The knot in his gut twists and it slips out. "I tried...I mean, I—"

"Stop it, Spencer."

Shawn doesn't listen, of course. When has he ever really listened to Lassie? Maybe he should now, but he can't yet. His brain is trying to sort something out, and when it's doing that nothing can really get in its way.

"We weren't fast enough. Maybe that's my fault." He pauses. "It's _probably_ my fault."

He should have gone into that room sooner. He should have figured it out and he shouldn't have been afraid and he should have done what had to be done.

"Spencer—"

"I-I was freaked out. I mean I—it just is. It's my fault. I'm sorry." Shawn doubles over where he stands, and everything he wouldn't let himself think about while he tossed and turned last night weighs down on him "Oh god...god, I'm sorry…"

"Shawn! Snap out of it!"

He bolts upright, gulping air, and Lassiter is staring at him and he knows he probably shouldn't have done that here. Not in front of him. He should have stuck with the apology. But everything is upside-down and Shawn doesn't know what he's doing anymore.

He's never failed like this before. He's never failed anyone he really knew. Not like this. Not when it was life or death.

Shawn shakes his head and backs away. "Sorry…"

This isn't happening. He's not having a breakdown in front of _Lassiter_. This is the worst thing he could be doing right now. Lassie doesn't need this on top of everything else.

Shawn clears his throat. "I um...look, do you need anything? Anything I can sneak in? You know me: not much for rules."

Lassie just looks at him for a moment longer, and then he seems to get the message that he's dealing with reasonably-calm-Shawn once more and he relaxes.

"No," he sighs. "I'm fine."

 _But you're really not._

Maybe if he'd figured it out earlier and they'd been there sooner the guys who had Lassie wouldn't have been so quick to just leave him to die. Maybe Shawn could have stressed the point that they might more. Maybe they could have been more careful.

But they _were_ careful. He _told_ the chief what those guys were likely to do. They took every precaution. What more could they have done?

But whether it's his fault at all or not, Shawn still hurts.

He pulls the chair out a little farther and drops into it, and Lassie doesn't protest.

"You did everything you could, Spencer," Lassiter says after a moment.

Shawn snorts once, quietly. "That's what the chief said."

"She's right."

Shawn swallows. He doesn't know what else he can do, what else he can offer.

Then he does.

"Hey...um...listen, just so you don't have to wonder...since I don't think you'd ask…" He pauses and makes a face. "No one else knows they told you about the video feed toward the end there. They think you don't know, and they're not gonna tell you. You don't have to worry about them...asking about it, or whatever."

Lassiter's eyebrows go up and his mouth opens, but Shawn cuts him off before he can start. He has to finish what he's trying to say.

"And-and I'm not gonna say anything, and, you know, nobody else really saw much. Just when we opened the feed for the first time, just for a minute. Then it was really just me, and I only saw what I did cause I was trying to find you. That's all."

It happened while he was trying to process the shapes in the dirty window. Trying to match them to the sounds from outside the building. Maybe the guys did get bored or something; Shawn didn't know then, and he doesn't know now.

They wouldn't stop. They nearly killed him again. Left the power on until Lassiter couldn't breathe again and when he was coming back, when he was fighting for air and fighting back the fear so he could glare at them again, so he could show them they'd never cow him, they told him he was being watched. They told him it wasn't just them.

Shawn didn't stay long enough to find out how he reacted. He'd figured it out. He knew where Lassie was and he jumped up and burst out into the bullpen to tell Jules.

So he didn't see what happened after that.

But he knows Lassiter will be glad to know no one saw much, and he is. Shawn can see that. Lassie's studying him now, looking at him differently.

"How did watching the feed help you find me?" he asks.

Shawn could lie. _Don't question the spirits, Lassie._ But Lassie's never believed, anyway.

"Out the window behind you," Shawn tells him. "There were cranes visible over the trees. The window was super dirty, so it took a while to figure out I'd seen them before...match that with what I could hear outside and match the positioning to my memory of the area so I knew the address. That's the basic run-down, anyway."

Lassiter huffs quietly. He shakes his head and he's almost smirking.

"What?" Shawn asks.

"You tell me this now."

 _Now that I'm dying_ , he means.

Shawn has no answer for that.

"I'm sorry," he says again. It comes out weak because he knows it doesn't mean much anymore, but it's all he has.

Lassie doesn't seem angry. He seems to accept that.

"You seem...astonishingly un-pissed."

"Why _astonishingly_? I've always known you couldn't be psychic, and you knew I knew."

Shawn shrugs and scrubs a hand over his face. "That's fair."

They both go silent again. Shawn slumps in the chair and Lassie stares at the ceiling, and Shawn begins to think if Lassiter wanted to rat him out and it were all over now he wouldn't complain. He doesn't know how he can do this anymore. The crime-solving thing. Not after this.

"I won't say anything, either," Lassiter says eventually. "I guess I owe you that."

Shawn shakes his head and grimaces. "No….no, you really don't."

"I'd already be dead if you hadn't given them an address."

"And I don't think that actually makes _either_ of us feel any better, so you're more than welcome to just drop it, okay?" Shawn pushes up out of the chair anxiously. "Okay? Just...stop! Why are you being so...reasonable?"

"Why not?"

Two simple words, seemingly benign, but in them Shawn hears the first hints of bitterness—the first hints of real emotion about any of this. And he knows that, whatever it is, Lassiter didn't let Jules see any of it.

But Shawn doesn't press. Not now. It's not really his thing anyway, and he'd only make things worse if he tried.

"Okay...okay, fine, whatever, look, I promised Jules I'd stick around until she got back, so that's what I'm gonna do, okay?"

"Fine," Lassie says shortly.

"Fine."

At least caring about Jules is still one thing they seem to agree about.

* * *

Shawn spends most of the time on his phone because he's pretty sure Lassie doesn't really want to talk him. Lassiter turns on the television up in the corner, but Shawn doesn't think he's really watching it even if he's looking that way.

When Jules calls early in the afternoon to let him know she's awake and on her way, Lassie's waking up from a nap himself. He seems more awake when Shawn tells him she's coming back. He perks up and straightens, and smoothes out the blankets on the bed and tries to do damage control on his hair without a mirror...all useless things, really, because he still looks like crap.

Lassie probably thinks Shawn doesn't notice because he's hovering near the door, waiting even though it'll be another twenty minutes, but Shawn notices. He wants to think it's just because Lassiter doesn't want Jules to worry quite so much, but something feels off.

"Lassie...what happened this weekend?"

"What?" He looks like a deer in headlights at that.

"Dude, something was off with Jules while you were missing and you too, now. I don't have to be psychic to know something's up; I don't even have to be a genius. What's going on?"

Lassie glares at him. "Mind your own damn business, Spencer."

Then, of course, he knows for sure there's _something_ , but he still doesn't know what. At least he feels a little better because Lassie snapping at him is decidedly more Lassie-like.

Shawn thinks maybe he's missing something obvious. Maybe he should get it.

He doesn't have to wonder long. Jules get there and she thanks Shawn again, but he doesn't quite manage to leave because he glances back and Lassiter is smiling. Everything is falling apart and Shawn doesn't even know up from down, really, but when Jules walks in Lassie looks at her like she's the only thing right in world. Jules sits on the edge of the bed and holds his hand, and neither of them seem to notice Shawn hasn't left the room.

He's only a few feet away by the door but he doesn't really hear what they're talking about, because it doesn't matter. What matters is the way they're looking at each other—the way the awkwardness that's usually there when Lassie tries to be normal around Jules seems to have disappeared with no explanation.

Maybe it's because it's crazy, but it takes until then for the pieces to snap into place.

Oh.

* * *

NOTE: Got a burst of inspiration this weekend, strangely, because of a Disney playlist someone had on at work Thursday. I know it's crazy, but for some reason "Can I Have This Dance" from High School Musical 3 has now become Jules and Lassie's theme song in my head for this story. Hadn't heard the song in years and it came on aaaand...yeah. I don't know. It started out Carlowe in my head because I was still feeling a bit guilty about what I did in Moments (even though I stand by it) but then Lassiet hijacked it and viola, inspiration for this story. Though there's definitely nothing tragic about the song, it's happy, it just becomes tragic if you put it in a situation like this. Maybe the song got hijacked by this story in my head because Carlton and Juliet danced on that one date earlier in the story. So anyhow if anyone wants to look it up who doesn't know it, well, get a tissue ready if you're thinking about it in terms of this story.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey ya'll! So sorry it's been forever. It's been the busy season at work and I had a big trip to get ready/plan for too. (Supernatural convention in Seattle! Met Timothy Omundson last weekend! Woot!)

Anyway, Happy Easter everyone! I hope everyone who celebrates is having a great holiday.

Please do let me know if ya'll are still around and are liking it/want me to continue this story. Writers live off coffee and reviews, and details are even better. ;) Thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 7

"O'Hara, I need...some time."

Three days. It's been three days since Carlton looked at her and said that, and Juliet hasn't seen him since. It's Friday now, and she's faced with another long weekend of waiting. She has a feeling this one will be infinitely worse.

But how could she say no? It wasn't often Carlton asked her for something like that. It wasn't often he said anything so emotionally straightforward in the first place. How could she deny his request for a little space to process what's happened to him when she could see how difficult it was just for him to ask?

"Oh…" she'd trailed, and her throat had constricted and her chest had ached because suddenly she was remembering that time was the one thing they-he-didn't have.

"Not...a lot," he said. "I just…"

"Right."

That was Tuesday evening, after Juliet had been with him most of the day. Neither of them had said much. It seemed to have been enough just for her to be there. When he asked her to go she made it home and she actually slept again, even though she didn't think she would Exhaustion, maybe. Emotional limits reached.

But she got up the next morning and came to work, because what else could she do? The chief gave her that look, but she stayed.

Friday. Nearly lunch time now. Shawn has been through twice already, and once he brought doughnuts. McNab and the others are enjoying them, at least. Juliet took a bite and half and couldn't eat anymore. The half eaten doughnut sits drying out on a napkin on the corner of her desk. She'd throw it away, but she figures Shawn and Gus will be back and maybe one of them will finish it off rather than having it wasted.

They're worried about her. Just like Karen is. She can tell, but she doesn't know what to do about it.

The chief comes by her desk, on the way out for lunch. She asks Juliet if she wants to come with her, eyeing the shriveling pastry with the eyes of a concerned mother.

"No, thanks...I'm fine."

Karen dips down to take the edge of the chair by Juliet's desk. She lets out a breath. "The hospital called...they released him morning."

Juliet blinks. "They...what?" But shouldn't he stay there? What if they think of something? Can't they help him better there?

"There's nothing else they can do for him there right now, Juliet...he didn't need to stay cooped up in that hospital room. He's up and around now."

"You've seen him?"

Karen nods once. "Yesterday. Just for a few minutes."

She knows Juliet is giving him his space. She knows Carlton asked for it, but only in a general sense. Juliet hasn't been able to tell her what happened. Between them. Not that it matters now, in relation to their jobs, since they won't be working together anymore anyway…

God.

But...well, it isn't just her secret to tell. But she thinks Karen knows something. Suspects. Juliet is sure Shawn does, too.

"Juliet, it's Friday. You've been caught up on your paperwork since yesterday. Go home."

"What?" Juliet blinks. "No, no, it's fine, I'm fine, really. I just…" She isn't really looking at the chief, and she trails off staring over Karen's shoulder because Carlton is here.

Juliet stands up and the chief spins around and they wait there, at Juliet's desk, for him to cross the bullpen. Juliet would rather be running to him but she isn't sure her legs would work if she tried to step from behind the desk.

Khakis and a plaid shirt-long sleeved, even though it's the beginning of summer. Hands in his pockets. But for what's left of the dark smudges under his eyes it might be like any other day he's wandered in when not on shift. Which he's known to do, just to check up on things.

It takes him a little longer than usual to get to Juliet's desk. People stop him to congratulate him on the bust again or tell him they're glad he was found, and maybe Juliet is imagining it but she thinks he's walking more slowly than usual. Gingerly, maybe. But it's probably in her head.

"Chief," Carlton says, when he stops on the other side of the desk. "O'Hara."

Karen just squeezes his arm briefly and retreats to her office.

"Hi," Juliet manages after a moment.

"Hi." He shift on his feet and gets that innocent look on his face, and chucks a thumb over his shoulder. "I um...lunch? Do you want to, um…?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Carlton pulls up in front of the first place they went to lunch together as partners, three years ago. Juliet wonders if he did it on purpose or if he even remembers. She debates whether or not to ask, but sitting in the parking lot and staring at the place her only clear thought is that she doesn't really think she could eat anything.

"I'm actually not all that hungry," she admits.

"Yeah. Me either."

They get out of the car anyway, in silent agreement, and walk along the water instead. Carlton is fidgety the whole time, like he wants to say something. She knows the face he makes when he does, and he's making it now.

Juliet knows they need to talk, but she doesn't know where the hell they're supposed to start now. She doesn't know exactly what Carlton was trying to figure out for himself these last few days. She doesn't know what _she_ wants to say, either, even though she's tried to think. Nothing comes to mind until he stops in front of a bench and they both sit. They're still quiet for a moment, but then his mouth twitches and she thinks he's going to say something and then she needs to get something out.

"Carlton, wait. I'm sorry. Before you say anything...I need you to know I mean what I said. I'll be here. I-I mean, unless you don't want me to be…"

Because stupid movies keep playing in her head and she had a thought, suddenly, that maybe Carlton would want to find Victoria again now. To give them one more chance to make things right before it's too late. There would be no room for Juliet in that scenario, she thinks.

But Carlton is looking at her like she's grown two heads. "What the hell are you talking about, O'Hara? Of course I want you around. What kind of thing is that to say?"

"Nevermind. Nothing. I don't know."

Quiet again. Carlton lets out a breath and leans over his knees. Juliet stares out at the water until he breaks the silence.

"I've made so many mistakes."

"What?" Of all the places she might have expected him to start, that was certainly not one of them. This is Carlton Lassiter, after all.

Carlton holds up a finger. "Just hear me out, okay?" It comes out more testily, more like _him_ , and that helps.

"Okay..."

"I was never open enough with Victoria, never gave her enough time, especially after we got married. And _no_ , I don't want to try to make things right with her _now_ , if that's what you were thinking. It wouldn't be real. That's over. All I want now..." He clears his throat and scrubs a hand over his face, like he's trying to work up the courage to say whatever comes next. His voice wavers at first, when he starts again.

"All I want now, with...whatever time I have left...is to avoid making an even bigger mistake." He isn't quite looking at her.

Juliet swallows. She's frozen in place, because this isn't the Carlton she knows but she does know, somehow, that it's a part of him that's always been there somewhere. Beneath the surface. She's seen the glimpses and tried to ignore them because it seemed like too much to hope he would ever surrender his stubbornness and ego long enough to let it out. She was content to be a partner and a friend to him the way he was. That's what friends are for.

"What do you mean?" she asks quietly. "What mistake would be bigger?"

He looks up at her finally, holds her gaze. "Not spending as much time as I can with you."

It should be exactly what she wants to hear, so why does it hurt so much? Why are there too many other thoughts for her to just accept it? He's looking at her imploringly, and she can't.

Juliet pushes up from the bench and crosses the brick waterside walkway to the blue metal railing. Her fingers close around the top bar and she wonders why it's so hard to breathe.

"O'Hara?"

"What are you talking about? What about your family? Why are you even saying this?"

She hears him get up, and he's over her shoulder when he speaks again.

"I'm saying this because I spent the last three days alone, and I thought about a lot. I thought about my mother, and my sister. I thought about Victoria. But you are the only person I couldn't _stop_ thinking about."

Juliet looks back at him, at the apology on his face, and she doesn't want him to feel that way. She doesn't want him to be sorry for being honest. "Okay...it's okay...just tell me what that _means_."

Carlton shifts uncomfortably and leans into the railing beside her. "I don't know what it means," he admits. "Do we have to know? Hell, O'Hara, everything was different a week ago. We were...partners. Friends. I don't think either of us ever thought anything else until...what happened. Did we?"

"No…"

"See?" He makes a face. "We don't have to _label_ it. Especially not now. God. I don't want to do that to you. I don't care about that. I just...want to see you." He looks away. "I...need you. I guess. Can I ask that?"

Juliet finds his hand between them and squeezes it. Her forehead finds his shoulder and they stand there like that for a while.

"I told you I would be here," she says, when she can.

"I know...I just needed to say that. I never say anything, do I? Not anything that matters. If there was ever a time to change that, well…"

He trails off and he tries to laugh, maybe, but it doesn't quite work out that way. The sound comes out strangled, whatever it is, and Juliet turns into him and wraps her arms around him. As tightly as he holds onto her when he returns the embrace, she knows it was the right thing to do.

She can feel Carlton's heartbeat, standing there with her head against his chest. She thinks she hears it stutter, or maybe it's only that it speeds up with her against him. Whatever it is, her imagination or not, she squeezes tighter and he doesn't complain.

Her imagination is going to get her trouble. She can't stop wondering what would have happened if this week had been like any other. If nothing had happened to Carlton and they were at the station right now and everything were fine. If anything would have come of last weekend in that scenario.

It doesn't matter now.

Juliet pulls back, holding his arms. She's looking at his left arm and she knows what he's hiding beneath the long sleeves. She saw the angry burns from the wire in the hospital. She can feel the bandages under the blue plaid fabric, and Carlton winces when she presses too hard by accident.

"Sorry…" she trails. He just shakes his head.

She looks into his eyes. They're bright again. Nothing will ever be the same but at least there is that. He tries to smile at her, maybe to make her feel better, and she can't help but choke out a small laugh. It's a bit more successful than his was.

Her hands find his face, and she goes up on her toes to kiss him. She doesn't think about it. When she leans back again enough to look at him his eyes have gone wide.

"O'Hara…"

"Juliet," she corrects him.

" _O'Hara_ ," he says again. "I told you, w-we don't have to...do this. We don't have to put labels on—"

"I'm not trying to."

Carlton swallows, and she can see all of the questions in his eyes. How much time will they have? What happens when he's gone?

She doesn't want to think about those things now.

"Then what are are you doing?" he asks. It comes out surprisingly steady. Head Detective voice.

When Juliet answers, she does it just as steadily. "I'm not letting them beat us. You." She takes a breath, and this is the clearest thought she has had in days. "They wanted to take everything from you, Carlton. I'm not letting them."

He blinks at her and his eyes mist over at that. "What about you?" he asks quietly.

"I'm a grown ass adult, Carlton. Let me make my own decisions."

His mouth opens and closes once or twice, and there's a snort that may be a chuckle. Juliet takes the moment of humor to kiss him again, and this time he responds.

"Juliet," she says again, against his lips.

"Juliet," he whispers.

* * *

"Maybe we should go back to the station."

"We've been there twice today, Shawn," Gus says. "And it's barely lunch time. Speaking of which, I'm starving."

"We could see if Jules wants lunch…"

Gus looks sideways at him as they walk the sidewalk across from the water. "I guess. You know, or we could stop now and bring her food after."

"Whatever you want to do, Gus."

"What?"

There's a hand on his arm stopping him and Shawn doesn't have the energy to shake it off or pull away. He stops.

"What?" Shawn answers.

"Shawn, you've been like this for days. You haven't been back to the hospital. You've been watching Juliet like hawk...I know you're worried about both her _and_ Lassie, for obvious reasons, but something else is up. What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Shawn doesn't really want to answer that, but then his eyes wander behind his friend and his stomach drops and he realizes he won't have to. "Uh….that."

"What?"

He can't really say anything, so he gestures vaguely across the road at the walkway by the water and Gus spins around. Between the people on the sidewalk with them and the people crowding the walkway over there it takes a moment or two for Gus to find what Shawn is seeing.

Lassie and Jules. Lassiter very much not in the hospital anymore and Jules very much not anchored behind her desk. Lassie and Jules at the railing, pressed together and lips locked.

Even though he knew, seeing it doesn't compute.

"Oh my god," Gus is saying. "Is _that_ what happened with them last weekend? You said you thought something had-oh my god."

"Yeah," Shawn agrees.

"So that was…?"

"Yeah. Worst timing ever, obviously, but...yeah. Not that I have any details or anything."

"Oh my god," Gus repeats. He's quiet a while, and they stare. "Well...that's good, isn't it? I mean, Lassiter, he's...dying, and all. He deserves someone now, doesn't he?"

Shawn is shaking his head, and he doesn't know when he started doing that. "Of course he does. Anyone would. But it's _Jules_."

"So? You have Abigail. What's wrong with it?"

"Jules. _Jules_ , Gus." He can't get anything else out and Gus is giving him that _yeah, get on with it_ look, and thank god Lassie and Jules haven't noticed them over here. They're holding hands now, moving away from the railing, walking slowly away in the opposite direction.

"Shawn? What? Are you okay?"

Shawn watches their backs as they go, sees Jules look up at Lassiter and catches her mouth opening as she laughs about something. She looks happy. For now.

"No. She's just gonna get hurt, Gus. Why did it have to be her?"


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks so much fir the reviews everybody! I really appreciate it. :) I hope you like this new chapter, and I can't wait to hear from you! Thanks again!

Chapter 8

It should be easy after that, but it's not. Not when Carlton isn't at work every day anymore. He picks her up for lunch most days and they spend many evenings out or on Juliet's couch, but she thinks in trying not to rush into anything or force anything or label anything too soon they're only making it awkward.

Then again, Carlton has always been a bit awkward and Juliet knows she's far from perfectly un-awkward herself. Quite the opposite. They've both always been this way and together they're one big awkward mess, but maybe that's why it still works. Maybe that's why they've always been such good partners. So even though they hardly get through a day without any strange pauses or 'umm's, she knows she wouldn't trade any of this time for the world.

She realizes, too, that as much as she loves her job maybe Carlton himself is a big part of the reason she was always happy to come to work these last three years. Her morning was never complete and her day was never truly begun until he smiled at her, or—more likely—made some snappy comment about everyone else's stupidity and told her to get back to work. Either would do.

The station is so different without him there. Quieter, certainly...but she knows now she doesn't prefer it that way.

"What the hell happened to the cradle robber anyway?"

"Carlton!" She knows he's talking about Cameron Luntz, and that is hardly an appropriate thing to say.

"What!" he says. He leans over the counter in her kitchen they're sitting opposite each other at, eyebrows up. "Come on, O'Hara, he had to have been at _least_ mid forties; he had twenty years on you!"

Juliet points her fork at him accusingly. "And you have about thirteen. Your point being?"

He sits back, almost sulking. "Well he _looked_ it."

"He did not." Carlton glares, and Juliet rolls her eyes. "But you look much better. There. You happy now?"

Her only answer is a stupid grin that would rival any of Shawn Spencer's, and she can't help but smile back. Besides that, why the hell can't he keep his shirts buttoned all the way when he's not on duty? She'd never realized how much of a habit it was not to until she'd seen so much of him outside the station these last couple of weeks. It's distracting.

She clears her throat. "Anyway, eat your damn broccoli. You're worse than my nephews."

"You never answered the question."

"Nothing. It just didn't work out. Why, were you jealous?" she teases.

"Of course not," he says, too quickly. "There was nothing between us but our professional relationship at the time; that would have been inappropriate."

But red is creeping up his neck and spreading across his cheeks.

* * *

Shawn waits nearly three weeks or so for some sign that Lassie and Jules have toned it down—that they've realized the error of their ways and decided they really are just friends. But the way Jules goes off to lunch with him every day and comes back humming seems to say otherwise.

Then there's the fact that he sort of sees them out every now and then completely by accident...yeah. And the way they look at each other and how close they gravitate to each other even in public doesn't seem to suggest the simple partnership and friendship they always had before. Dammit.

He waits to do anything, mostly because back when Lassie was still in the hospital he used up his capacity for actually-being-able-to-talk-to-people-about-serious-things for a while. It takes that long to recharge enough to seriously consider trying.

Jules isn't paying a whole lot of attention at first. She's on her computer trying to finish paperwork for the case they just wrapped up—which was super weird without Lassiter around, for sure—and she isn't quite looking at him. At least that makes it easier to ask how Lassie is, to broach the subject.

"Oh, you know...okay, considering…"

But she says it and trails off in a way that makes Shawn pretty sure she actually has no idea whatsoever. Which doesn't surprise him, really. Three years knowing the guy and Shawn doesn't know much at all about way Lassiter thinks, or feels. He wouldn't know what little he does if it weren't for his observational skills and the whole thing where he found Lassie drunk at Tom Blair's that one time.

"You don't know? What have you guys been doing, anyway?" There. Good. Smooth.

Juliet shrugs. "Nothing. He needs someone right now, Shawn. We're just spending time together." But the corners of her mouth are tugging themselves up, and god the last couple of weeks or so she's seemed so _happy_ , and he knows it won't last because it can't, and he can't take it. He doesn't want to see the end of the road.

Just spending time together. Yeah. Sure. "While occasionally making out?"

Damn. It wasn't supposed to come out like that.

Juliet's eyes go wide and she shoots up out of her seat. "Shawn! That is none of your—! How do you even _know_ that?"

"Kind of hard not to when you did it right out in the middle of everything day one."

"Oh my god; were you _following_ us?"

"No! Gus and I just happened to—"

"So Gus knows too, then."

Shawn blinks. "Well...yeah. I mean, don't worry about it...we haven't told anybody."

Jules lets out a heavy breath and drops back into her seat. "Okay...okay, sorry. I'm sorry, Shawn. I shouldn't have jumped on you like that."

Shawn swallows. "It's okay." He takes the chair by her desk and leans over the corner anxiously. "Listen, Jules, I'm just...I mean, what are you doing?"

"That's still none of your business," she says more gently.

"Why not? Don't I get to care? As your...friend, or whatever?"

"But is that all it is, Shawn? Because you have no room to be jealous. Would you be saying anything if we really were just spending time together?"

"Probably not, but that would be different."

"How? If you're only saying something as a friend."

" _Jules_ ," Shawn pleads. "Come on, just….understand here, okay?"

"Understand what?"

"That I _care_! Yeah, about Lassie—and I hate this whole thing, a LOT—but kind of more about you, and I'm sorry if that's bad. It's just what's going on in my head right now. Didn't really plan it, but there it is."

Jules doesn't say anything for a long time. She just looks at him, and he's afraid what he feels is even worse than he thought.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just don't...want you to get hurt. Being his friend is one thing, but you're heading in a _whole_ different direction, and it's just gonna end, and….god—" He cuts off and looks down at the top of the desk because he is really not ready for this conversation.

He's not ready to face everything behind it, either, or the fact that it's all going on there inside him while he's already with Abigail, and what kind of person does _that_ make him?

He almost expects Jules to yell at him, or at least tell him to leave. Something. Instead he feels one of her hands cover his on the desk.

"Shawn...everything ends," she says quietly. "It's not like Carlton and I didn't go into whatever this is with our eyes open."

"'Whatever it is?'" he echoes. "Don't you know?"

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. It closes and she opens it again, but still nothing. She makes a face and looks away, trying to cover by pretending to make sure no one is listening to them.

"Jules…" Shawn says.

When she looks at him again her mouth is set. "I'm whatever he needs, Shawn," she says firmly.

Shawn takes a deep breath to steady himself. "And...you're okay with that?"

She doesn't bat an eye. "Yeah. I am." One corner of her mouth comes up again, and it helps a little because it tells him she means it.

But that doesn't mean any of the worry is gone.

"Shawn?"

He realizes he's been staring off over her shoulder for a good minute or so. "Hmm? Yeah? What?"

"Are you okay?"

Shawn clears his throat. "Yeah. Of course. Yeah. I um…" He pulls his hand away from hers and pushes to his feet. "I'm fine. You're right. It's your business and I um...I'm sorry."

"Shawn, are you sure you're—?"

"I'm fine, Jules. Really." He isn't. "I'll see you around, you know? And I need to call Abigail back, and anyway..." He digs his phone from his pocket to cover the lie and retreats hastily from the bullpen.

* * *

Dammit, Shawn.

Now Juliet is really thinking, and it was nice the last few weeks just...not to. But she can't do that forever. Carlton doesn't have the luxury of time, so neither does she.

No, now she's thinking again, and thanks to Shawn now she's wondering how Carlton is really doing. They haven't talked much about what happened to him since that first day. He seemed to be handling it so well, and he changed the subject whenever she tried in the few days after. Always in an easy way, granted, but...if he's really so all right, why does she feel uneasy now? She hasn't tried in a while.

Carlton is supposed to meet her for dinner later, but instead Juliet climbs into her car after work and heads straight for his apartment.

It isn't until she's nearly there that she realizes, in all this time since what happened, she hasn't been to Carlton's place once. Whether it was purposeful or not remains to be seen. Whatever the case, it puts an extra urgency in her step up the walk to his door.

"Carlton?" She knocks on the door, and after a long minute or two he still hasn't answered. "Carlton! Carlton!" She pounds harder. Her chest tightens and she has the sudden fear that something has happened. That he's collapsed or—

The door opens, and she stumbles back a step.

"Calm the hell down, O'Hara, I'm right here," Carlton grouses.

He's still dragging fingers over his hair trying to lay it all down and it's five fifteen in the afternoon but he's still in pajama pants and a t-shirt and sporting more five o'clock shadow than he ever actually did at five o'clock. Or ever, in public. That sets off alarms in her head right there.

She tries to calculate the last time she saw him. The day before yesterday, at lunch. Enough time to end up like this.

He doesn't look awful, exactly, but he doesn't look like Carlton Lassiter.

"Carlton?"

At first he gives her that look that means _really?_ In this case it probably means more _what are you doing here?_ But any annoyance quickly passes and he steps back without a word to let her in. As she passes him she thinks she sees something else cross his face. Something like guilt. It doesn't make any sense until she sees the inside of his apartment.

Carlton's place is just as clean as always, except for the boxes—some full and taped, some half full—and carefully stacked piles of things by the walls and on the counters and coffee table. Juliet stops in the middle of the room and turns in a circle before she looks back at him.

"Carlton...what the hell is this?"

He looks at her, and for a moment she thinks he's going to talk to her— _really_ talk to her. But the moment passes and any openness in his face shutters itself off, and suddenly it feels almost as if the last three weeks or so never happened.

"Nothing. Just organizing." He pushes past her, scoops up a stack of books from the counter, and moves to the wall where several open boxes are waiting.

" _Organizing_?"

"Yes. Organizing." He picks the books up one by one, checks the spines, and drops them into one box or another after. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"With organizing, no. This is not organizing. This is _packing_. This is…" She trails off because her voice is wavering, and she can't go on.

But he seems to know what she was trying to say, because really it must have been obvious. There's really no way to hide what he's doing, but he's acting as if it doesn't matter anyway.

"Why not? Might as well keep someone else from having to do it later," he says brusquely.

Juliet swallows hard. "Carlton, you don't have to do this…"

"I want to. It's much easier to just get it out of the way, O'Hara. There are quite a few things here my sister could make use of, and several things my mother might want back or that I'd like her or Lulu to have, or...you." He indicates particular corners, neatly stacked.

"The rest can be donated or thrown away later depending on condition. Some of it now, really. I've needed to go through my closets in any case. This was...simply an excuse to stop procrastinating."

"You procrastinate?" Juliet asks faintly.

Carlton shrugs and brushes past her again. He moves to a pile of old shirts on top of a box on the other side of the room and starts to sort through them. "I'm human, aren't I?" he mutters.

"You shouldn't be doing this," she says.

"It's my choice. I don't need everything here."

"Stop…" she says. But it comes out a whisper. She doesn't think he hears her, because he just keeps talking. His back is still to her.

"No longer than I'm going to be here, there's no reason to—"

"Stop!"

"What!" He spins around to face her, and maybe it's the dampness in her vision but she think he wobbles when he does. But then he's holding onto the edge of the box behind him and she doesn't know if she saw it or not.

" _Stop_ , Carlton. This is not your _job_. There are other things that are, but you shouldn't have to do _this_. Not after—after everything you're going through already. When it has to be done laterwe can—I mean, someone...it will get done. You don't have to. I-I mean as long as everything _necessary_ is—"

Juliet cuts off again, because she has yet to succeed in really getting a full sentence out, and her throat hurts so badly now the pain alone is bringing tears to prick her eyes. She takes a heavy breath.

"Please stop," she pleads.

Carlton is still looking at her, and the tension has drained from his shoulders but he's shaking his head. "I can't," he says. The tone is all apology, but that makes no sense.

"You _can't?"_

He turns his back on her again, more slowly this time. "I can't," he repeats stiffly. He goes back to folding shirts.

" _Why?"_

He doesn't answer, and Juliet crosses the room to round in front of him.

"Carlton, this is crazy. What are you doing?" Silence, except a sharp _thwack_ when he tosses down a folded piece of clothing with more force than necessary. "Carlton, _come on._ Please. Talk to me. Why do you have to do this? Why?"

"Because I _can!"_

Juliet blinks. "What?"

He's shaking his head, looking at her now. "Because I _can_ , okay? I…"

Carlton trails off and leans away. A grimace crosses his face and he's reaching for something to lean on—a stack of boxes or the wall, maybe—but he's reaching the wrong direction. There's nothing there but her. When she takes his hand and his arm bends against her for support she can feel him trembling. She swipes the unshed tears from her eyes with her free hand, and now she can really see the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"God...god, come here. Come sit down."

"Dammit, O'Hara, I—" He's trying to protest, but when he stops in the middle to moan she knows she can't let him. His hand goes to his chest and the other in her grip tightens around her fingers, and when she commands him to move again Juliet's voice kicks up a notch.

"Shut up! Come on."

By the time she gets him to the couch and sits beside him his breathing is ragged. He sends her after a bottle of pills from the counter and it takes a moment to figure out which one he means. There are so many. Then there's the problem of finding a glass for water.

"How long have you been up?" she asks, once he's swallowed what he's going to take.

Has this been going on since the beginning? What he's doing here? Or was it a sudden need for action in the middle of the night? A feverish push through something he didn't need to be dealing with?

"I-I um…" He trails off, eyes moving as if he's trying to calculate.

Whatever the answer is, it's not good. "Carlton…" she scolds quietly.

"I'm sorry," he says faintly.

"Don't _apologize_. Just tell me what's going on. What do you mean 'because you can?'"

He glances over at her, up really. He's leaned over, elbows resting on his knees, hands working anxiously between them. "I mean...I _can_. No one can tell me not to. They can't—"

He makes a face and looks away again. His hands squeeze together so tightly his fingers begin to turn white, and he takes a difficult breath.

 _They._

In an instant it all makes sense. _They._ The people who did this to him. Who took the rest of his life, laid before him in all its possibilities, and ripped it away. _They._ They; the ones who took away so many of his choices.

She knew being here for him could never change that part. She'd been a fool to ever think maybe he was really dealing with it as well as he seemed to be. This was Carlton Lassiter; he wrote the book on selectively burying emotions.

Juliet wants to say something. She wants to make it better, but she can't. She can't fix this. All that comes out is, "Oh my god…"

Carlton makes a strange sound at that-half snort, half moan. He tries to get up, but he doesn't make it past the coffee table. His pant leg catches the corner and he goes down beside it and stays down.

"Carlton…!" She drops off the couch to her knees at his side. "Carlton…"

She doesn't know what else to say now, because he's crying. And that is not something she was prepared for.

His shoulders shake as he clings to the edge of the coffee table. Juliet gently pries his fingers from it and pulls him against her instead. For some reason she's remembering the coffee table in her own apartment, and how it brought both of them down that fateful night a month ago. For some reason, while Carlton sobs into her shoulder and she rocks as they sit there crumpled on the floor between his coffee table and his couch, she wonders if coffee tables have it out for them or if the damned things are only trying to help.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks so much for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. :) I can't wait to hear from ya'll! I really appreciate it!

Chapter 9

Juliet and Carlton are shoulder to shoulder on the floor, their backs against the front of the couch. There is not enough leg room. The stupid coffee table is in the way.

Seeing as Carlton has his knees pulled up, doesn't seem to notice, and is busy having his face buried in the heels of his hands—and probably being needlessly embarrassed—Juliet decides to take matters into her own hands. She probably has another few minutes to wait until he figures out that what just happened is perfectly all right. She could say something now, but if she tries to say it before he's ready to hear it, it won't help anyway.

Juliet plants a foot against one of the legs of the coffee table and pushes. The plan, really, is just to angle it away enough to give them a bit of space. She succeeds in that. The table even makes such an awful noise scraping across the floor that Carlton looks up with a grimace. Juliet is in the middle of her apologetic glance when she stops pushing, and an entire stack of magazine slides off and onto the ground and spreads itself out several feet on the laminate floor.

They blink at each other, then at the mess, then at each other again. A corner of Carlton's mouth ticks up. Juliet laughs uneasily, and then not so uneasily. It take a while longer, but Carlton laughs, once. It's better than nothing. After another minute or two the laughter has died away and they're left in the silence again.

Carlton clears his throat. "Juliet, I...did not mean to do that," he says.

Juliet shakes her head. "No. I'm not letting you apologize for that." She leans a little further into his shoulder. "I knew what I was getting into, okay?"

He nods silently, and when she looks at him she can see the exhaustion lines in his face.

"You should sleep," she says gently.

"I'm fine."

"Shut up. That was not an option." Juliet gets to her feet and offers him a hand, and is surprised when he actually takes it. "Is there anything else you should have taken today that you haven't?" she asks, glancing toward the kitchen.

Carlton squints into nothing, trying to remember. "All of it," he sighs finally.

"Go," Juliet says then, pointing with absolutely no nonsense toward the collection of bottles on the counter. He goes, saying something along the way about how he doesn't usually forget and she shouldn't be concerned. "Yeah, okay. I hear you."

"I'm serious!"

"I believe you," she smiles. "Just stop stalling so we can get you in bed."

He cocks an eyebrow at her. "I am not a child, O'Hara." It comes out enough like himself, but tired. Only reinforcing her opinion that he should get some sleep.

"Then don't act like one, and stop complaining."  
Carlton rolls his eyes, but he does as he's told. Once he's taken everything he needs Juliet follows him back to his bedroom to be sure he gets into bed. His protests seem to have run out. He crawl under the covers and he doesn't even say anything when Juliet pulls the blankets up to his shoulders and kisses his cheek.

She doesn't encounter any resistance until she tries to leave.

"Juliet…" The voice is barely a whisper, his hand catching her fingers as she stands. She squeezes instinctively, and finds his eyes. The bedroom is dim but she can make out enough to know his gaze is shifting, uncomfortable. "You...you don't have to leave," he says.

She knows it is the closest Carlton will ever come to begging her to stay.

"Okay," Juliet whispers. She toes off her shoes by the bed and climbs in over him. She never releases his hand, because for some reason she can't bear to. She tucks her head by Carlton's shoulder when she settles in, and their fingers rest twined over his chest.

"I'll be right here," she says.

Carlton tilts his heads into hers on the pillow, but enough time time passes that she thinks he's drifted off. She doesn't expect him to say anything else, until he takes a deep breath. She waits.

"I love you," he whispers into the calm silence. He lets out some of the breath, and it wavers. "Can I say that?" he asks unevenly.

Juliet doesn't expect her eyes to go wet again when he says that, either, but there it is. She presses in against his neck to mask her own unsteady breath. "Of course you can."

Carlton huffs quietly. "I was afraid that might just...make it worse. It's why I didn't want—"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Of course I know." Juliet kisses his temple once. She means to catch his cheek next, but he turns to meet her lips with his own. They're left with faces inches apart, and no desire, she thinks, to pull away.

She swallows. Something must follow here, but she doesn't know how brave she is right now. All she can do is open her mouth.

"Carlton...you have been my partner...my friend...my one anchor in this place that's so far from where I came from. Just because I know more people now...have other friends...it doesn't make how much you mean to me any less true. I love you. Maybe it was different before, but…"

He kisses her again before she can get any farther. He turns against her, crushes her into him, and it only takes a moment for Juliet to know what's happening. A spike of fear for him stabs into her gut.

"Wait, wait," she gasps. "Can we even—?"

"Carefully."

"Carlton, you're already tired. And what happened out there…" She can't get the image of him leaned into her with a hand to his chest out of her head. She can't help being afraid.

He growls quietly into her cheek, but he must know she's right. His grip on her lossens and sharp breaths begin to fade again. "Go to sleep for now," she says. "Just go to sleep…"

And as early in the evening as it is, Juliet has no desire to do anything other than sleep herself. This day has seen enough. They fall asleep tangled together, and she's still unsure whether she should be thankful for what they've found or cursing the awful timing of it all.

* * *

"O'Hara. Juliet." A gentle shaking of her shoulder and a more insistent tone now. "Juliet."

"Hmm?" Juliet opens an eye and Carlton is leaning over her from his perch on the edge of the bed. The bedroom is brighter than it was before—not overhead lights, but early morning sunlight through curtains that must be open now. She opens her eyes the rest of the way and scrubs the sleep out of them.

Carlton is already up and dressed, showered and shaved. Really? What time is it, anyway? She glances at the clock on the nightstand. Barely six. But then they did fall asleep not long after six last night.

"What are you doing up?" she asks. He must see the other question in her eyes, because he answers that one first.

"I'm fine," he assures her. "And ten hours of sleep is more than enough. Anyway, you should get going if you're going to get home in time to get ready for work."

"Are you kicking me out?" Juliet teases.

A soft smile toys at the edges of Carlton's mouth. "No. I'd just prefer not to get you in any trouble."

Juliet nods sagely and digs under the pillow she'd been using for her phone. When she clicks the screen on one text message alert is waiting for her—a single word from the chief. _Ok._

She woke up briefly just after midnight and decided to send the text Karen is answering: _Not coming in today. Carlton needs me._

"Well, you're in luck," Juliet says now. "I don't have to go anywhere."

Carlton raises a skeptical eyebrow at her. She considers making some excuse, but after last night, why? If they're going to be entirely truthful now it might as well be complete. Instead of explaining she hands over the phone, with her text and Karen's reply both visible. Carlton takes it, confused, but doesn't look down right away. Juliet has to nod at the thing again before he takes the hint and reads it.

The look on his face is enough to tell her what it means to him.

Juliet sits up against the headboard, reaching for his hands. Carlton sets the phone down on the nightstand and lets her take them.

"It's Friday," she reminds him. "I've got all weekend."

This time she's ready when he leans in to kiss her. He slides back into the bed with her and suddenly she's laughing, and she isn't sure why.

"Not fair," she says. "You're clean. I have bed head."

"You're beautiful," Carlton says firmly. He takes the time to stop, to take her face in his hands and look her in the eyes. "Always."

Then, of course, the laughter is gone and her throat is clogged instead. She clears her throat loudly. "And-and you're sure—?"

"I'm sure."

" _Really_ sure?"

He nearly rolls his eyes at her. "I _asked_ , if you must know."

"Your doctor?"

"Yes," he sighs.

"We just...be careful."

Carlton starts to get up, but he's smirking. "Never mind. I'm making coffee."

Juliet catches his hand and drags him back down. "Carlton Lassiter, get your ass back here!"

* * *

Shawn goes to the station again the morning after his conversation with Jules. He means to...apologize, maybe, or something. Or try again. Anything. But Jules isn't there. The chief tells him she isn't coming in today.

The look Vick gets on her face when she says it really gives it away. Shawn doesn't have to ask where Jules is—not that the chief would have told him what with privacy and all.

"Right. Okay. Uh...then I'll just, you know, be around. Call us if you need us...and all." He's pretty sure the chief is looking at him strangely as he leaves, but that isn't exactly new.

Shawn finds Juliet's car outside Lassiter's apartment, just like he thought he would. He doesn't know why he bothered to check when it's not like he's gonna go in there.

He doesn't mean to see what he catches through cracks in the blinds before he leaves. He doesn't mean to see Lassie and Jules emerging from Lassiter's bedroom, Jules dressed only in one of his shirts.

Shawn leaves quickly after that.

He thought it would hurt more, but it doesn't right now. He can't stop seeing their smiles, and at least now the whole thing is done with for him. Now he knows for sure he isn't going to change their minds.

* * *

Juliet's smile fades quickly once they're back out in the main room—once she sees the boxes and stacks of things. The magazines she knocked over last night have already been cleaned up.

Carlton has trouble finding her hand in the long sleeve of his shirt that she's wearing, but he takes it anyway and waits beside her—maybe for her to say something.

"You still need to do this, don't you?" she asks.

He looks at her, and the apology is in his eyes again. "Yes."

Juliet takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She nods and turns into him to be sure she has his eyes. "Just don't do it alone. Let me help you."

Carlton makes a face and his gaze drifts away. "I don't know if..."

"Please. Look at me. Look at me." She waits until he does. "I know you have to do this. I get it. I do. I know you...I was just upset last night, okay? But just because you have to do it doesn't mean you have to do it alone." She manages to smile a little. "If you're going to let me in, really let me in. Can you do that?"

Carlton answers by pulling her against him into a hug.

"Is that a yes?" she asks against his chest.

"You're determined to thwart my efforts to make this easier for you…" he murmurs.

"Dammit, Carlton, grown-ass adult, remember?" Juliet pushes back enough to look up at him. "I don't want easier. I want you."

It doesn't matter if they would never have felt this way without what happened to him...if they never would have come to this without it. And she knows, really, that they probably wouldn't have. They would have written it off as stray physical attraction due to working together so closely for so long and they would have gone on as partners. As friends.

That doesn't make this any less real. She needs him.

Carlton brushes her hair back from her face and stares down at her in wonder. "How do I deserve you?"

"Stop saying it like you don't. I'll get angry."

"All right, all right…" he smirks.

"Are you going to let me help?"

"We need breakfast first…"

* * *

Shawn is waiting at his dad's kitchen table when Henry comes home from running errands or whatever he was doing. Henry stops inside the back door with a start.

"Shawn! What are you doing in here? I've told you to stop coming in here when I'm not home. You do know that's breaking and entering, right? Your name is not on this deed."

"Yeah...whatever...sorry…" Shawn trails. He picks at the seam where the leaves of the table come together. He doesn't get up. Henry doesn't say anything else at first, but there are footsteps up to the table. When he looks up his dad is leaning over the back of the chair at the head of it.

"Shawn?" he says. It's that _I-know-something's-wrong_ voice. On a normal day Shawn would ignore it. "Shawn, what?" And now there's some impatience. Already. Because he's Henry.

Shawn makes a face and looks at the table again. "Look...Dad...you know what happened to Lassie…"

Henry shifts on his feet. "Yeah…how's he doing? He still at home?"

"Yeah. And you don't know all of it."

"What are you talking about?"

It all comes spilling out—faster and faster. The details he never told anyone and what's really wrong with Lassiter and that he'll never be back to work because he's going to die. Shawn doesn't know if he's doing the right thing spilling the beans, but Henry never saw Lassiter all that often even before all this and Shawn figures if he can trust anyone to keep a secret it's his dad.

He needs to talk to someone else. Someone on the outside of this.

"And-and now he and Jules are _together_. Like, together together, and I know it's just gonna end badly, but they've made up their minds, and I mean sure, okay, it's their right to do that. I get it. Not my business. But Jules is my friend and...I guess Lassie is too, even though that's weird to say but...I mean guy's dying. I can't really be mean right now. Anyway, point is I can't _fix_ it, Dad. I can't fix him, or how much it's gonna hurt Jules when—"

He has to cut off and clear his throat. "I-I can't _do_ anything. I can't solve this. I can always solve... _everything_. But right now I can't…I can't…"

And now his throat really hurts, dammit, and he's probably said too much, and Henry is just staring at him. He hasn't said a word.

"Dad?" Shawn asks.

Henry lets out a breath and clears his throat. Still silent, he turns to go the refrigerator and he comes back with two beers. He sets them down on the table, one in front of Shawn, and sits down in the chair he'd been leaning on.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "Welcome to the real world."

* * *

By the time Juliet makes it to the station Monday morning Shawn is waiting for her. He's perched on the edge of her desk but when he sees her he jumps to his feet.

"Jules! Hey...I uh...I brought donuts. And coffee. I thought about pancakes, but they don't really transport well…" True his word, a box and a takeout coffee cup are sitting in the middle of the desk behind him.

"Thank you, Shawn...you didn't have to do that." Now she remembers what happened Thursday. The reason she went over to Carlton's in the first place. It gives her a sudden urge to hug Shawn. She's about to give in to it when Shawn take her arm and drags her toward the stairs.

"You're welcome...look, can talk to you? Come on."

"Shawn?"

She follows him down the stairs and in and out of doorways until they find an observation room that isn't occupied. Shawn pulls her in and shuts the door behind them.

"What's with all the secrecy?"

"Well you still don't want everybody knowing about Lassie, right? I mean you two _or_ the...other thing." He grimaces. "Anyway."

Uneasiness creeps into her stomach. She knew he wasn't fine. "Shawn, why do you want to talk about that? I told you—"

"No, no, it's okay. Really. I just…" Shawn trails off and huffs like he's trying to get his thoughts together. "You're just gonna have to be quiet for a minute, okay? Because I _suck_ at this stuff and...yeah. Okay?"

Juliet swallows, but she nods. "Okay…"

 _Oh god, Shawn. Please don't make this more complicated than it already is._

"Okay. Good. Um…" He clears his throat. "Look, Jules, you know I was just worried before, right? Because…"

"Yeah," she says.

"Yeah," he says. "And I mean I'm not saying I'm not anymore, because I _really_ am...but you can make your own decisions and it's none of my business and I _know_ that…" His hands can't decide whether to work anxiously together in front of him or fly everywhere.

"So...I just want you to know I'm here, okay? I'm-I'm your friend, and I care about you, and you deserve to be happy and so does Lassie, especially right now, so...I'm behind you. Okay? Whatever you guys decide to do. I'm in. I'm the cheerleading squad. I'm the backup dancer. I'm the support group. I'm—oh!" He cuts off when Juliet latches onto him. "Okay, we're hugging now."

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you, Shawn. So much. You have no idea how much I needed to hear somebody say that…"

It felt like drowning, leaving Carlton's house this morning. After the weekend together she had no choice but to come back to the real world, and it only reminded her that what they have now may be real, but it won't last forever. Being with him, she didn't need to cry, but she cried as soon as Carlton's apartment building was out of site. She cried all the way home and was glad she'd given herself time to take a shower before work.

She can't do this alone. _They_ can't.

Shawn holds her, and she has a lifeline.

"You're welcome," he says.


End file.
